You know the one... the old guy in front of you at the supermarket with three inch hairs growing out of the inside of his ears. I'm currently keeping my ears trimmed and tweezed but I know the day is coming (soon) when I simply say screw it.

I'm sleeping more in a chair than I am in a bed.

I'm thinking about hanging out at one of the local VFW clubs, and I'm not even a veteran.

I saw a picture of an old high school friend on the Internet the other day and I thought it was his dad. But his dad has been dead for 5 years. If he is that old I must be old. It's kind of a cosmic rule.

As I mentioned before I'm now all about yelling at kids in the neighborhood to stay out of my yard. They hadn't actually been in my yard but I somehow felt driven to warn them away just the same. And what would have been the harm if they had been in my yard? Were they gong to kick the dirt into the street? There sure isn't any grass there any more, since water is so expensive and all... .... the other day I caught myself thinking, "What good is grass? You can't eat it and if you water it you just have to mow it." And again if I do have to venture into the front yard, I will surely wear Jesus sandals with tire tread soles and black knee socks while I rearrange the dirt with my mower.

Dream Girl and I enclosed the garage (We removed the door and built a wall and then put up siding.) It took two days, sun up to sun down, and it still isn't painted. I will admit that some of that time was eaten up by my wandering around Lowe's in a lumber yard trance. But the point is that ten years ago it would have taken me maybe six hours. I could have even cooked some hotdogs while I was building it and then played tackle football in the street on Sunday morning. But noooooooo....  I felt like I had survived a plane crash on Monday morning. Everything I have hurt, even my earlobes.

I have some friends that have a Blues band, I may have mentioned it. Their band is called BLUEPRINT and back in the day I would have showed up at dawn, helped them load and unload equipment at a gig, drink beer and hang with them all day and night and then help load up and transport home. Today Dream Girl asked if we were going to be going to listen to them play at the Mayor's Blues Ball this weekend in Medicine Park, Oklahoma and the first thought to cross my mind was, "I wonder how hot it will be?" and the second was, "How far away will we have to park?" and finally "Will there be ample restrooms?".

Getting old sucks.

I have accepted that the persistent demands from AARP that I join their stupid little club will never end until I capitulate, yet I'm holding out on principal. What principal, I don't know but I'm holding out none the less.

The final straw was two weeks ago when I received this invitation from Playboy to subscribe to their magazine.

There was a time when I would have jumped at the chance to receive hundreds of glossy photos of sexy, naked, smoking hot ladies a large collection of in depth articles concerning world happenings and events enhanced by a few lovely ladies every month for only $1. I would have taken one look at the photo on the card and wondered, "How could a guy fall into a bucket full of her?".

But no.... my very first thought, before anything else was:

"That's really inappropriate to be sent through the mail....."

I'm REALLY old.

As a side note... My name and address is all over the Internet and I doesn't really bother me but I did blur out my address on this card to make it a little harder for the casket and funeral home people to find me, that's all I need.