by Gary Torres
I must be getting old because I am starting to do things that I can’t really explain.
For example, lately while sitting waiting for my too kind and loving wife I find myself cleaning my ear with a key.
I don’t know why I do this, except I know that my dad used to do that, and his dad before that.
This goes against all the sage advice of mothers everywhere. They have always warned, “Don’t put anything in your ear smaller than your elbow.”
I am attributing this desire to use a key to clean my ear to old age because I have a granddaughter that for some reason has tried to put a Fruit Loop up her nose.
I suppose if she could talk she might explain it the same way I would, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Maybe Fruit Loops are a gateway drug of sorts. First you put Fruit Loops in your nose when you are one year old, then when you are old your keys replace Q-tips. It’s like leaving your blinker on for five blocks; it just happens.
Another really telling sign that I am getting old is that the stylish blue polyester jump suit that our high school math teacher used to wear is starting to appeal to me.
My too kind and loving wife and I made a pact several years ago. She would never let me wear such an outfit if I would never let her go to the store in magenta sweats and a banana clip in her hair.
This last indicator that I am getting old is going to take real courage to even share with you. I am having a real desire and almost unexplainable urge to buy a plastic squeeze coin purse. They just seem so practical, kind of like a blue polyester jump suit.
I am being drawn towards these like a Klingon tractor beam pulling Captain Kirk to his imminent death.
I am not proud of it, but I have to admit I have been looking on the internet with a salacious desire at red plastic squeeze coin purses; oh the shame. I can’t even begin to figure out what I find so attractive about a red plastic squeeze coin purse, but they seem so utilitarian, so useful, and so neat.
Pretty soon I am going to be one of the old guys at the cash register line holding up 20 people by insisting, “No I am certain I have the correct change, just a dang minute I’ll get it.”
Then at the speed of melting glaciers, I will start to fumble through my red plastic squeeze coin purse and get confused because all the people behind me are glaring at me like a solar flare.
You should all have more patience with us old people. You have to remember that going to pick up the mail and the store may be our only thing on our “to do list” today.
So don’t get behind me at the checkout line; it may take more time in the “express line” than it would to just grow your own potatoes.
A bit of advice if you see a man in a blue polyester jump suit with a red squeeze coin purse in the express line you might choose another line.