You no longer use the phrase “The young people” ironically.
You get more excited about new snow tires than you do about sex.
You make noise every time you get out of a chair or bed or fart.
At the end of the day, a body part, like an arm or leg, just stops working. And, when I’m tired, I walk like a cartoon old person.
I have begun thinking about how I’ll fall in different scenarios. I try to plan how I’ll land if I slip in the tub or on the icy driveway or the steep basement stairs. I never worried about falling when I was a kid, but a broken hip or twisted knee could really cause me trouble. And, the older you get, the better chances there are that a fall could kill you. (Those “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” commercials ain’t so funny now, are they smart-ass?)
Naps. Also known as “you’re too old to get through the day without sleeping.” Turning into a giant newborn, a very real part of manopause.
Butterscotch starts to taste really good. Admit it (if you are over 40), you’re getting horny just thinking about it.
I realized snoring can kill you. Sleep apnea is no joke. Now when I see the Three Stooges doing their loud obstructive snoring routine I yell at the screen: “Wake up! You’re suffocating!”
I’ve begun planning my day around bathroom trips.
Everyone under 30 seems to be an idiot. (I suspect this one is more than just a feeling.)
18-year-olds look like babies. How was I supporting a woman and child when I was 19? It just doesn’t seem possible. (Oh yeah, I was doing it badly.)
Old people don’t look as old as they used to, and they don’t look at me suspiciously any more. It’s almost like I’m becoming one of them. (One of us! One of us! Gooble-gobble!)
Toenails become like heat-treated glass. And, if left unattended, can also kill you.
New found obsession with with the weather. Never used to care about the forecast. Just figured it was going to do whatever it was going to do. But, now? I mean, have you seen what they’ve done with the Weather Channel? It’s amazing.
Dessert has become a mandatory part of supper.
I’ve begun to call dinner “supper.”
I head into the shower with the care and preparation of a mountain climber, knowing each trip could be my last. (See also: falls kill)
I pay more attention to the obituaries than I used to. (Racking up silent victories over everyone I’ve outlasted.)
I finally “get” jazz.
I still bitch about my taxes but secretly realize their necessity.
Music that came out when I was a kid is now being played on the oldies station. (This one irks the shit out of me!)
I keep catching myself telling the same few stories over and over again. But, with a little luck and a few years, I won’t be able to remember that I’ve told the stories before, and people will be too polite to tell me they’ve heard them before. The only problem is, I keep catching myself telling the same few stories over and over again…
Birthdays look less like Christmas and more like toll booths on the way to the graveyard.