If you read the last blog regarding Grumpy’s mother, Hellfire Helen, you might have noticed the signs of Senior Citizenship are somewhat crude and abrasive. In the interest of science and general knowledge, Grumpy has gathered a list that just might assist you in determining your own status as an aging citizen of the third rock from the sun. Please read and enjoy.
You know you’re on the road to becoming a fuddy-duddy when. . .
You carry your 20 something pound grandbaby around and it feels like you’re giving the fireman’s lift to Oprah or Rob Ford. You are considering physical therapy or a new fitness regimen to conquer your obvious frailties.
You take the meds that keep your heart ticking and you kicking along with a swallow of beer –straight from the brown bottle. Doing counterintuitive acts is now common place with you.
You forget taking your pills all the time. Forgetting the one you have to take with food means you eat meals in the evening after eating a meal at dinner time. Your waistline gives evidence to your forgetfulness. Your significant other always reminds you to take this pill but usually its three hours too late – hence, another late evening meal.
You mumble under your breath all the time as if narrating the documentary of your life. Once in a while you are loud enough to be heard in public and you are glad that people probably think you’re talking on a Blue Tooth. However, more often than not you get looks saying, “Stand clear, Billy, that old man’s a multiple personality psychotic.”
Along with the above, you mumble criticisms concerning the illogical behavior you witness everywhere. My daughter pointed this out to me in Wal-Mart the other day. She couldn’t stop laughing. “Dad, be careful what you’re saying. People can hear you.”
Your son’s teenage buddies say things like, “Wow, I’d like to spend a day in your brain, Grumpy. That would be so interesting and weird.” This usually comes after you’ve stumbled and mumbled through some ridiculous explanation for something as simple as, “Why did you do that?”
You know you’re on the road to becoming a fuddy-duddy. . .
When you are home alone with the dog, you talk to him/her as if they are a real person. “Well, Pumba, let’s see what’s on television!” When the dog’s sleeping you talk to yourself as if you are with another you, or you talk aloud, describing what you are doing. “Well, I think I better get supper on!” Most times, the other you will answer you back. “Why don’t we make Panini’s?” To which the real you replies, “Good idea!” And so on!
When your spouse is home you continue to talk to yourself as if he/she isn’t there . “Oh, I’ve got to go downstairs and find that thing I’m looking for and then I’ve got to hit the bathroom.” Either she tells you to “stop with the play-by-play, that’s way too much information” or you accidently discover that “Homes for the Aged” is booked marked in your spouse’s GOOGLE.
When you head somewhere in the house and forget why you were going there in the first place. You backtrack to the place of origin hoping you remember why you took that original trip. If you have stairs in the house your lack of memory creates your daily exercise program. Down the stairs to get that something, then up the stairs to remember what that something was. This counters your forgetfulness regarding that pill you must take with food. WIN-WIN for you.
When every night you are awakened by aches and pains. Sometimes even your hair hurts. You wonder how a bed with a pillow-top memory foam what-you-may-call-it mattress can feel like a bed of nails. You might even find yourself downing a Tylenol Body Pain Night Extra Strength from a second gulp from that original brown bottle or a follow-up brewskie. Nobody ever told you that sleep hurts. You ask your wife, “Did you buy that mattress from that place called THE RACK down by the castle?”
When your toenails are getting exceedingly long. You bend over and you ache when you try to get down there, and your diaphragm is so constricted you begin to hyperventilate while, at the same time, feeling faint. No matter that your aged nails have the consistency of concrete. Wearing safety glasses during one of these procedures isn’t an option because you have no desire to look remotely like Lord Elton John.
When everything you eat is converted to noxious gas. I won’t bore you with a diatribe on flatulence. You only need to know that Grumpy puts “the fart” in OLD FART. He thinks that’s why they put power windows in modern vehicles – instant air evacuation.
When little girl sales clerks in stores treat you like their grandpa/grandma and talk to you as if your intellectually challenged or an six year old child. They sound like your kindergarten teacher from 60 years ago. They prance around you like annoying Bambi’s cooing at you like Turtle Doves.
When you’re lying in the hospital after cataract surgery with a diagnosed irregular heart beat and the Doctor turns to your wife and says, “If he was my DAD I’d want to get this checked out.” Say what? Grumpy doesn’t look that old, does he?
Or even worse. Your standing in Tim Horton’s with your over 70 mother-in-law and the little girl cashier says to you, “Would your wife like anything, sir?” Maybe Grumpy does look that old?
You know you’re on the road to becoming a fuddy-duddy . . .
When the gardens you maintain that were described as a beautiful park 10 years ago, become such hard work you’re thinking of paving the yard over. Those little shrubs and trees you planted require constant trimming and weeds have become your nemesis. And, you often find yourself loudly cursing dandelions even when you’re out in public.
When your patience goes out the window. Every lineup, crowd, traffic jam, sales clerk and vehicle on the road drives you around the bend because they’re all “a-holes” as Hellfire Helen so eloquently described. People drive too fast, talk too much, and generally put your blood pressure on Red Alert. Forget about ROAD RAGE – you’re developing LIFE RAGE! The single finger salute becomes your signature move and a constant status on your Facebook page. You think back to that crazy custodian from school, Norm, who said everyone should be allowed to carry handguns. Somehow you’ve come around and now agree with him.
When you write notes to help with your forgetfulness and you lose the notes. Your wife finds one of those notes weeks later; you look at it, and don’t remember writing, “Check winning lottery tickets.” Of course, you don’t remember where you put those damned tickets while the radio announcer proclaims, “No one has claimed huge lottery prize!” The most common note you lose reads, “Remember to take pill at suppertime.”
When you realize that some of the people you think are really old looking prove to be younger than you. That’s why you avoid mirrors and photographs. Hellfire Helen would say, “Don’t take my picture, I always look like Kit Dowding” – Kit Dowding being way older than old Helen. Grumpy often says, “Don’t take my picture. People will think I’m the Good Wife’s father!”
When you can’t find your car in the parking lot or, even worse, you get into a car that isn’t yours much to the terror of the poor soul in the passenger seat. Police do report that carjacking by seniors is on the rise. That’s probably because the a-holes running the car companies charge way too much for that newfangled Crown Victoria you’ve been eying.
The most significant telltale sign demonstrating that you’re on the road to becoming a fuddy-duddy, of course, is that Christmas or Thanksgiving when you tell your son or daughter to put that turkey where the sun don’t shine. It will be even worse, when you make that your Facebook Status.
Now I know why Hellfire Helen was the way that she was. Grumpy experiences this every single day. If someone asked him why he was so Grumpy, he’d simply reply, “I hurt everywhere, I don’t sleep at night, I have so much gas half the time I feel like I could explode, people are idiots, kids these days are rude, drivers drive to fast, everything takes too long, people talk too much, I can’t remember what I did five minutes ago, I lose or misplaces everything, I drop things constantly having to painfully bend over to pick them up again and no one will step up to the plate to tie my shoes!!”
Bah! Humbug! Just call me Ebenezer!