I’m getting old, I can’t deny it anymore. I am no longer the young, flexible, easy going person I like to pretend that I am.

Damn Pumpkin

A couple of weeks ago I threw out my back while picking up a pumpkin with my daughter. It wasn’t even a large pumpkin, just your average sized squash but I turned just the wrong way and ‘crick’ my back went out.

No, I’m not in any pain

I ignored it for a longer than I should have. I wanted to pretend that it would take care of itself if I just ignored it. I didn’t care that I couldn’t move without severe pain, that I shouldn’t have been driving because there was absolutely no way I could back out of a parking space or change lanes without looking to see if anyone was there. Thankfully there wasn’t.

Old people can’t wear FMPs?!?

I didn’t want to admit that I was getting older. That instead of roaming the mall for the latest pair of trendy boots I should be searching for life insurance quotes online or searching for info on Wikipedia about what old people do.

What do old people do?

I’m now 45, I think, and when my father was this age I thought he was really old. Now when someone says they are 45 or younger I think of them as being young. Young like 20 or maybe 30 but certainly not old like 45. 45 is nearly 50 and that’s way old to me now.

I’m sure it won’t be in five years but right now it’s just this huge road sign up ahead that says “You’re Old, Turn Here”. Or something like that.

I was never that flexible it turns out but I was sorta easy going. I let most things roll off my back.

I could go with the flow

Not anymore. I watch as the mailman and children in the neighborhood walk across my grass. I don’t have a sign that tells them to stay off my grass but I really believe that they ought to know to do this.

They don’t.

Not even my own kids, who watch me hissing at the mailman and neighborhood kids, seem to understand that they need to


I’m pretty sure if I want a decent life insurance policy I am going to need to chill out about the grass. I am sure there is some kind of screening process for old fogies who can’t let people walk on their lawn. I also know I will fail it.