Thursday, July 9, 2009
I probably should post this in giant size print so my future geezer self will be able to read it when I need the reminders.
I started collecting hints years ago when I was only partially geezer...my early 40s. Don't have a coronary out there if you are 40 and sputtering right now. It was my daughter who pointed out that the rules for my future geezerdom could start now. Anyone over 23 is, like, ancient, man. Now that she is almost 20, it is amazing what age qualifies as being a geezer.
Anyway, I started thinking about this because I don't want to be the crazy old lady that smells funny and rants and makes no sense and just generally goes through life oblivious like Mr. Magoo. I like to rant, so that's one strike against me and I do tend to be pretty oblivious so that's my second strike. My only hope is not to smell funny.
I was in line at Target, the express lane, the lane for 10 items or less (maybe it's 15, I don't remember. Oh, no.....) and was behind an old lady. No doubt about it. She was old. And tiny. I'm only 5 feet 2-3/4 inches and I towered over her like Godzilla. She had all her stuff on the counter ready to be rung up by the time I impatiently get behind her. I was in a hurry for some unimportant reason I am sure...kid soccer practice, PTA meeting...who knows and I was practically tapping my feet. She is chatting away to the cashier when the cashier tells her the total. Total? Oh, right, I have to pay. This sweet little old lady reaches into her old lady purse. You know, black, kinda of shiny with a clasp that clicks open and shut? Anyway, she fumbles through this monster purse, fishes around like Mary Poppins looking for a lampshade and finally manages to find her checkbook. Yes, her checkbook. She starts to write her check with shaky old lady writing, rips out the check, holds onto the check, opens her check register (because of course she does not have carbon checks) and fills out her check register all the time chatting away. She finally hands over the check, slowly puts everything away, smiles and leaves.
As I pay for my stuff I am thinking to myself, "I will never do that. I know I have to pay. It's not a surprise they spring on you at a store, I will be ready to pay." The arrogance of us boomers is amazing. Narcissism runs deep. It's all about us. All 70 million of us or whatever that damn number is. I wish I could go back in time and apologize to that lady, but at the same time I don't want to end up irritating the hell out of everyone around me. You know who you are, you old people who drive in the fast lane going the speed limit. If homicide was legal, I would be the World War Flying Ace of the freeways. But, I have morals and common sense and a deep seated fear of peeing in front of strangers so that I would never do anything to put myself in jail.
I have many rules for my future geezer self. Hopefully, I will end up being a cool old lady who only smells a little funny.
Posted by Happy Hour...Somewhere at 5:24 PM