Friday, November 14, 2008

Older Than I Look?

While volunteering at the thrift store this week, I found the back room to be excessively chilly while the front room was overly warm. Moving back and forth between the two while putting out merchandise, I found myself having to put on and then remove my sweater because of the uneven heating of the building.

I tried to prevent any hot flash jokes from my co-worker, Chuck, by saying that I knew I was getting older, but that wasn't my problem yet. It was the building's heating system.

Chuck said more or less, that he wouldn't guess I was old enough for hot flashes. "You can't be more than thirty-six."
I smiled, and said I knew he was just being nice to me, but I appreciated the sentiment.

Chuck continued, "Thirty-eight?"
I stuck my thumb in the air and gestured upward.

"Forty??" his voice rising in pitch of disbelief. Certainly I wasn't that old!
I shook my head, smiling sadly. No, older. Thumb gestures upward. "Forty-TWO?"

Now, up to this point, I'm feeling complimented, so I admitted "No, Chuck. I'm forty-eight."
My tiny bubble of self-congratulation was quickly burst as he let out a loud,
"OH MY GAWD!" and people in the shop laughed and turned to look at the old lady I am.

He recovered nicely by saying that I was well-preserved. Great. I'm going to go take my Geritol now and go to bed. It's past nine o'clock.

Notes:
Clay (rooster) met his maker yesterday by way of varmint. I had guests in the house yesterday and thought I might be considered a little more eccentric than they already know I am to have a smelly paralyzed rooster in the house. So, I took him in his plastic container to near the chicken coop so he could watch the hens. When I returned home last night at 8 p.m., the container was tipped over and he was gone. The varmints are coming to attack earlier each evening. Part of me is relieved - it was a natural death and I was tired of nightly having to give him a bath (he couldn't move you know, so you can visualize....) Part of me is sad for him. I hope the raccoon or possum chokes on his bones, though.

6 comments:

Camflock said...

My kids don't believe me that I am younger than you because you have so much energy!

Kristina said...

Honestly, I never would have guessed it.

debra said...

We had a chicken hospice for a while. I had a chicken that also progressively lost her ability to move. She died after about 2 weeks.

Packsaddle said...

You can't be serious.

Dang!

That's a lot!

Of, ummm, bones that varmint will choke on.

Yeah, bones.

There's 307, you know.

Bones.

In a chicken.

Which, mathematically, is like 700 percent more than 48.

So, keep those chins up!

I mean chin.

Yours.

Up.

I'll go now.

Junosmom said...

Camflock: Your kids have the blinders of youth.

Kristina: Thank you. I think.

Debra: I've seen this particular paralysis now twice. Next time, although I'm hoping there won't be a next time, I'm going to start with the vitamin B drops immediately.

Pack: Yes, may every single bone stick in their crawl. Or do racoons have a crawl. Of course they do - that's how they get around.

Janie said...

Girl.

Packsaddle may need to go through the Chinese water torture or something.

Women always age gracefully.

Men? not so gracefully. Especially after a self-induced butt whuppin'.

Just saying.

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