Once again, I can’t find my coffee cup. And my glasses are AWOL.
No matter what anyone says, getting older stinks. My short-term memory isn’t what it used to be. And as for my long-term memory? Well, it’s completely… um, sorry, what was the question again?
I used to laugh at my husband’s mother. She was always misplacing her coffee cup, only to find it hours later in the microwave, stone cold. She called her sons by the wrong names on a regular basis. (It didn’t help that their names all begin with ‘M’.)
Now, strangely enough, I find myself doing the same thing – losing my glasses, mixing up names. And you know what? It’s not so amusing anymore.
At least I’m in good company. Mick Jagger and David Letterman are now eligible for AARP and early bird specials, yet age hasn’t fazed them one bit. Mick blew everyone away with his monologue on Saturday Night Live recently, and David’s still as funny (and quirky) as ever.
When the time comes, and age and gravity begin to get the better of me (they haven’t yet, thank God), there’s always plastic surgery. Not that I’d ever consider such drastic measures. It’s just that I get a little unnerved when I look in the mirror and see Miss Havisham looking back at me.
Of course, age does have its advantages. These days, if I forget someone’s birthday, I’m much more inclined to be forgiven. (A really nice present by way of apology helps, too.)
Plus, I can have my little tipple (Prosecco, of course, but a glass of Sherry will do in a pinch), and instead of people casting me disapproving looks and muttering, “Drunken slag,” they beam at me and say “Aw… isn’t she a sweet old thing?”
Now, then – has anyone seen my cup of coffee? Ah, never mind – here it is, just where I left it…
… sitting in the microwave.
Now, if I can just find my glasses, I’ll be all set to watch “The Late Show” with David Letterman.
If I don’t fall asleep in my chair first.
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