Respecting My Elders (not really)

The other day someone asked me my age and I had to stop and think. For a minute, I thought I was going to be 33 on my next birthday (which is on tax day, I am not above accepting gifts from strangers). After some quick math, I realized that I’m already 33. On the brink of 34. On the brink of 40. On the brink of…okay, I’ll stop.

I mean, I know that I’m going to GET older. But I don’t want to BE old.

When you’re old, you do strange things, develop weird habits, mutter odd phrases.

I am fortunate enough to have three of my four grandparents alive and living within five miles of me. Because of this, I have a first-hand look into the octogenarian lifestyle. And frankly, it scares the shit out of me.

Judging from the apartments and people I’ve seen in their “active adult community”, here are the things that seem to be elderly must-haves:

The Pill Organizer. I believe you get this in your AARP Welcome Basket. It’s the size of a TV remote control (huge old-lady handbag required for transporting it NOT INCLUDED). Don’t EVER mess with the P.O. Don’t question why Wednesday has three more pills than Thursday, or why there are no pills and just M&M’S on Sunday.

9 Boxes Of Lightbulbs. Or 15 boxes of aluminum foil, 3 containers of oregano or 11 umbrellas. Enough of each to get you through three more lifetimes.

1970’s Sofa That Looks Brand New. Bonus points if it has plastic on it. Extra credit if it’s gold or avocado green.

Housecoat. It’s sleeveless, snaps up the front, has a nice floral pattern. It’s worn to clean the house, get ready for bed or after a bath. Chances are, there are 17 more just like it in the closet.

Tissues. And you store them up your sleeve. Or in the pocket of your housecoat.

Father Time – if you're reading this – please stop the clock. I look awful in a housecoat.