As I age, I realize that: Old age is coming at a really bad time!

I don't trip over things, I do random gravity checks!

I don't need anger management; I need people to stop pissing me off!

My people skills are just fine; it's my tolerance of idiots that needs work.

The biggest lie I tell myself is: "I don't need to write that down, I'll remember it."

I talk to myself because sometimes I need expert advice.

Sometimes I roll my eyes out loud.

When I was a child I thought nap time was punishment; now it's like a mini-vacation!

The day the world runs out of wine is just too terrible to think about!

I don't have gray hair; I have "wisdom highlights." I'm just very wise.

I've lost my mind and I'm pretty sure my kids took it!

Wouldn't it be great if we could put ourselves in the dryer for ten minutes, come out wrinkle-free and three sizes smaller!

Last year I joined a support group for procrastinators. We haven't met yet!

If God wanted me to touch my toes, he would've put them on my knees.

When the kids text me "plz" which is shorter than please, I text back "no" which is shorter than "yes."

At my age "Getting lucky" means walking into a room and remembering what I came in there for.

Chocolate comes from cocoa, which is a tree, which makes it a plant, which means it's salad... Almost.

Lord grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can,
and the friends to post my bail when I finally snap; and give me patience, and give it to me NOW.

You may have noticed ~ perhaps even in yourself ~ that Old People move more slowly than Young People. I have noticed this often over the years
in my parents and other aging bipeds as they moved toward their seventh or eighth decades. I always cut them slack, believing they were moving
as fast as their emaciated legs could propel them. I now know that this was an erroneous assumption on my part. I know this because, even though
I am technically not an "Old People" by any agreed-upon definition, I find myself more and more moving slowly. Unlike my parents or anyone else in
the "snail's pace" crowd, I know the reason for this peculiar phenomenon.

Most slow-moving seniors (or seƱors in my neighborhood) are quite capable of moving faster than they do. I myself can move out right smartly when I've a mind to, even though referring to oneself as in "I myself" is a boneheaded redundancy. I could walk much faster but I choose not to and
therein lies the key to the mystery. I can only speak for myself, so just in case this turns out to be true only for moi, don't say I didn't warn you...

Old people are not in a hurry to get to where they're going for the simple and obvious reason that they don't know where they're going. They know there's a good reason they're going to _________ because they know likewise that there is something Very Important for them to do when they get there. The location corresponding to "there" is the fly in the ointment. This is not to suggest that the actual purpose of going (slowly) there is to fetch a fly swatter, although it could be and often is. I know you get where I'm going with this but I will continue in case some other halfwit who might be reading this is a little slower in the uptake than thou. The old know something that the young don't, namely that if one is not sure where one is going, it behooves one to go there slowly lest one be pointed in the wrong direction and one finds oneself too far in the wrong direction to be able to make it home in time for dinner or even to make it home ever.

Now, where was I going with this...?




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