You Know You're Getting Old When . . .
— you have painted those rocks at the edge of your driveway white.
— you start to think a pastel warm-up suit makes a pretty snappy outfit for going out in public.
— trips to the bathroom begin outnumbering trips to the fridge.
— the pleasure you feel elevating your feet has nothing to do with sexual gratification.
— there are more colors in your pill-dispenser case than in that Hawaiian sunset jigsaw puzzle you glued together and hung in the hall.
— nothing is funny.
— the only things you feel are bargains anymore are those crappy items at the dollar store that you don’t really need 5 of anyway.
— you begin experiencing hunger pangs at 3:00 p.m., especially for the Meat Loaf Special at Shoney’s.
— you can recall more names of deceased past Presidents than of your grandchildren.
— all you do with your cell phone is make and receive calls, and even that often seems bafflingly high-tech and high-falutin’.
— most of your conversations begin with “We never used to . . . “.
— the most memorable evenings with your sex partner consist only of foot baths, Matlock, instant frappuccino, and those damn neighbor kids being quiet.
— you wonder how so many apparent 7-year-olds could get driver’s licenses.
— Republican politicos begin making sense.
— you plan your meals not around what to include, but around what to exclude.
— every one of your growing number of doctors, dentists and insurance agents is a ‘young whippersnapper’.
— you insist on watching the nightly national news, and feel compelled to shout back at every news item.
— you and your partner make more noise getting out of bed in the morning than you ever made getting into bed at night.
— 90 bucks a month is far too much for you to pay for wireless phone service, cable TV, internet access and movie rentals — combined!
— reading any list as long as this is a real pain in the ass.
— stripes go with plaid goes with paisley goes with polka dots goes with herringbone; brown goes with green goes with gold goes with pink goes with turquoise.
— no one is beautiful anymore; the only choices are cute, OK, had some work done, trashy, and homelier than a mud fence.
— the volume control on your TV no longer goes anywhere near high enough.
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