A wicked cold snap has whipped across the Great Plains this week, leaving most of rural Nebraska in double-digit negative temperatures. It’s that kind of cold that makes your face sting and your muscles ache. As a result of the weather, a pair of long underwear and a hooded sweatshirt has accompanied my attire for the past few days. I have convinced myself I would undoubtedly freeze without them.
Before bed last night I went to take off my hooded sweatshirt and noticed the front pouch was puffed out. Praying it wasn’t a result of my “winter weight” gain, I quickly went digging for an answer. I ended up pulling out two handfuls of waded up tissue and paper towel, sad souvenirs that marked my day’s activities. Like an 80 year old I had stored away used Kleenex as efficiently as a squirrel stores its nuts. The sad truth is that I don’t even have a cold to blame for the unnecessary hoarding. It can only mean one thing…
I’m officially old.
Something bizarre happens when you begin to age out of your mid-thirties. You are no longer a young adult and you still convince yourself that middle age exists as a category for your parents. However, sometimes things occur that make you realize you are actually getting old (e.g. – a pocket full of used tissue).
Fearing the worst, I started looking around for other clues as to the impending aging process. What other signs were practically staring me in the face without my knowledge?
I still use an actual Day Planner. That can’t be good…
I gifted myself anti-aging salves and creams for Christmas. I assume the next step is the Debby Boone “Lifestyle Lift” procedure…
I have a dish of “sucking candies” in my kitchen. Dear God…
And then I caught a glimpse of my wallet. It is official: I possess the wallet of an old man…
Sure, there are the usual suspects one would expect to find: a driver’s license, credit cards, a little cash. However it’s the other contents that have me worried…
It resembled the time capsule of a bizarre bachelor. Odd notes and quotes scribbled down on scraps of paper, postage in case I have a mailing emergency, a family photo that seems unrecognizable now, a business card from a venture long gone, a dollar coin of no significance I can recall (possibly the onset of Alzheimer’s?), a Post-It note reminding myself to “Make Good Choices” (Do I need a reminder?) and my abbreviated funeral plans in case my demise comes quicker than expected.
All I needed was an AARP membership card to seal the deal.
I like to think I will grow old gracefully. However, it’s the slap-you-in-the-face-senior-moments that come from left field that make you realize the transition might not be as graceful as you would prefer.
Now…where did I put my wallet?
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