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.

Gregory Anderson 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.

That Janie Girl 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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