It isn’t so bad being a senior

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We all gotta get old sometime.


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Sat and watched the kids gather for the bus on Tuesday. It’s been a long time since I was involved in getting anyone ready for school, fixing lunches or walking to the bus. You almost forget the time passing until nudged back into reality by such a visual reminder.

My baby brother turned 65 on the weekend. That was not so much a nudge as a kick in the head, a slap in the face, a punch in the stomach. Reality can do that to you from time to time. Although he is a few years behind me I never think of myself as old. It isn’t until that milestone is reached by someone younger that it kicks in. My sisters and I gathered to welcome him into old age and show him how much fun it is.

Got this email a bit ago and it seems appropriate. I won’t share all of it – just the highlights – as it’s lengthy. Some of you might have read it before or I might even have shared it before and don’t remember. That’s part of the fun.

We All Get Old In The End…

I changed my car horn to gunshots. People get out of the way much faster now.

Gone are the days when girls used to cook like their mothers. Now they drink like their fathers.

You know that tingly little feeling you get when you really like someone? That’s common sense leaving your body.

I didn’t make it to the gym today. That makes five years in a row.

I decided to stop calling the bathroom the john and renamed it the jim. I feel so much better saying I went to the jim this morning.

Old age is coming at a really bad time. When I was a child I thought nap time was punishment. Now, as a grown-up, it feels like a small vacation.


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The biggest lie I tell myself is, “I don’t need to write that down. I’ll remember it.”

I don’t have grey hair, I have wisdom highlights. I am very wise.

If God wanted me to touch my toes, He would have put them on my knees.

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

Why do I have to press one for English when you’re just going to transfer me to someone I can’t understand anyway?

Of course I talk to myself – sometimes I need expert advice.

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

Actually, it isn’t so bad being a senior, I have everything I wanted as a teenager only 60 years later. I don’t have to go to school or work. I get an allowance every month. I have my own pad. I don’t have a curfew. I have a driver’s license and my own car. The people I hang around with are not scared of getting pregnant and I don’t have acne. Life is great.

It’s OK, Lauret, you’re next.

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