Welcome to the Geriatric Ward!

Last week I celebrated a birthday. Well. "Celebrate's" probably not the right term.

From Florida, my mom calls to wish me a happy day.

"So...how old are you today?" she asks.

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. Come on."

I didn't know, I really didn't. Just because my mom played at being 39 for many decades didn't mean I had to join in her  games. Somewhere along the way, I sorta quit counting.

So I said, "Well, lessee...subtract 1961 from 2016...carry the number..." I used my air chalkboard. "Wow. Guess I'm 55."

"Then today you're officially in the senior discount age bracket."

Huh. She said it like it was a rite of passage, a badge of honor to get that 10% off a bag of chips. But...how did that happen? More importantly, when did it happen? Seems like just yesterday, I was living like a teenager. Carefree and not an ache in my body. And now I can get a senior discount. How...awful.

Thanks Mom!

Of course I mulled it over all day long. That night my wife took me out for a great birthday meal where I ate like my life depended on it. Pretty much felt like it did, too.

On the way home through the Plaza in Kansas City, Missouri, I watched all of the teenage hipsters strolling through the streets.

"Look at 'em," I ranted. "Wearing their shorts and sandals and T-Shirts and beanies, walking around like they're invulnerable to aging! Bah!"

My wife said, "Wow, this is bothering you. Do you really feel like a senior citizen?"

"Right now I feel bloated, stuffed like a turkey and in a brain coma from eating too much seafood lasagna! My shoulder and arm ache because I slept on it 'funny!' And there's nothing 'funny' about it! And it's 7:00 and we're going home and all I feel like doing is rolling into bed! So, yeah...I do feel like a senior citizen!"

Great Caesar's ghost!

I'll save you a spot in the nursing home. I hear Bingo Night's a real hoot.

ONE CLICK AWAY FROM DARK COMEDY!