This I’ve noticed…..

The rat race is never ending - but the point and time comes to jump off.

They say you shrink with age - hence the fact I think I remember being 5’11 and ½” at some point and time - now, the nurse tells me I’m 5’10 and ½”. Pointless to argue “That CAN’T be, when I clip my toenails now, they are SO MUCH further away than they usedta be.”

Cars, 5 lanes full, each direction, each in a greater hurry than the other - help me Lord, take me to the two lane country road where I can see the rabbits, the deer, the hills, lakes/ponds, greenery, autumn yellow/orange/browning, space between houses, where the buffalo usedta roam.. As it is, I worry about my ’neighbors’, 16” away, checking their texts, sliding over to share my lane instantaneously. You millennials think “that old codger has left his turn signal on,” pffft, we just want the hell offa this 5 lane road.

I don’t want what seems to be the mandated 5mph over the speed limit. Lemme pull over perty please, go 5mph under the speed limit, and please, no 5-hour-energy tailgaters that are close enough to see my stray ear hairs in my mirror. Two lane, before it’s too late.

I’m not worried about the 8 cars in front of me at the drive up window at noon time at Wendys. I’ve got the Oldies station cranked up a tad - affords at least two songs before I turn it down to order my small vanilla Frosty. I-want-what-I-want, and I want it, eh, whenever I get there. I know it’s your lunch hour and you’re pressed for time, sorry, it’s old fart payback time. I want what I want, and I want it whenever (I want), whenever that eventually is.

Hurry now = gotta pee. Or, putting on undies, one damn toe stuck, won’t go thru the big circle, and you hop hop hop (hurry) to find the nearest wall. Finally get that leg thru, fitty percent finished, time for the other one.

Calendars now, there is no regard for SMTWTFS. It’s “one day it will be the last one”, stop, enjoy, go slow (no choice in that matter). There are chores to do, things to clean, clothes to wash, but what if this is my last day? I’ll do all that tomorrow, TGLW. (Whippersnappers, that’s old fart text talk for The Good Lord Willing.)

Important, I’m finding as I age, has diddly to do with upward mobility (well, now that’s still a quest, just a different kind.) Nuttin’ to do with the biggest, baddest, newest car - just gimme one that starts, has enough pep to get the hell over on this 5 lane road - and won’t drink gas like it’s PacMan or sumpin.

I’m finding, as I age, “How you doing” ain’t done in passing, it’s done in serious inquiry. Listening is so much more fun when ya ain’t wearing rat race blinders. Sure, hearing may not be as good, but now it’s strain-to-hear versus how-the-hell-do-I-get-outta-this-conversation-I‘m-in-a-hurry.

Smiles now ain’t fake, they’re genuine. It means “you’ve got a cute grandkid,” or, “I remember way back when we were fulla piss/vinegar”, or, that the tummy has finally stopped hurting because we finally were able to pass gas.

We’re selfish at this age, but… ask us if we care. Nope, nada, huh uh. We watch you get up, run, fetch, drive to soccer practice, speed thru Mickey D’s, phone Big Daddy to make sure he doesn’t forget little Johnny’s orthodontist appointment - and all that watchin’ makes us tired, so we nap. Till, whenever. Till whenever we wanna. Screw am/pm, SMTWTFS, alarms.

Yeah, we’re forgetful, we get in the way, and you don’t have to whisper to your mate “can you believe he/she is wearing that?” - WE DON’T CARE. My dad had a favorite pair of way-too-old damn pants that he wore daily (and washed daily too) in retirement to do the dirty little chores of life. My mother would be flabbergasted when he wore them to the Piggly Wiggly because the zipper puller-upper thing had broke off and he put a large paper clip in it’s place. I now understand why he didn’t give a rats. Thanks Pop.

Ok, I’ll get outta here now, or, to quote Eric Burdon, “we gotta get outta this place, if it’s the last thing we ever do.”

TGIF-R to you. Huh? TGIF-R? Yep, Thank Goodness I’m Finally Retired.

Talk to you tomorrow, TGLW.

Love, Victurd