Old Comes to Town

I think I've aged about five decades in the last three months.

I feel like I'm 90-years-old.

Maybe 91.

I wish I could act like it, too.

I wish I could swear filthily and have people think it's funny rather than crass because I'm so old, I've obviously lost my ever-lovin' mind.

I wish I could cut in line at the grocery store or push people out of the way to get to the last on-sale pork roast even though I can't eat it because my denture paste just doesn't work the way it used to.

Not that I want to wear dentures.

Or deal with denture paste.

Ever.

But it sure would be nice to act the way I feel for a change.

Instead I have to go clean copious amounts of Burt's Bees Coconut Foot Repair off the couch.

Carolyn figured out how to get the top off while I wasn't looking.

At least it smells good.