Baby Blanket
This morning I woke up a little before 7am, just like clockwork. No alarm needed. I got out of bed, let the dogs out, opened up the chicken coop and made my way back into bed. It’s Sunday. I wanted to sleep in. I should have known better. After an hour of laying in bed watching the morning news, I decided going back to sleep wasn’t going to happen. So, I got up, made my bed and headed straight for the coffee pot.
As I waited for my coffee to brew, I reached up into my medicine cabinet and took my multivitamin. After I enjoyed my morning brew, I got dressed and headed to the gym. 80 minutes later (today was cardio day) I headed back home. When I got home it was time to take my daily pill. I reached back into the medicine cabinet. I started prepping dinner, had some chicken chores outside to take care of, vacuumed and dusted the house. At this point it was only 1pm. I figured with nothing left on my agenda, I’d jump in the shower. I headed to the bathroom to take a shower when halfway there I remembered that I have a lumbar injection tomorrow morning. At that point I smiled. Then laughed out loud. It was also when I realized – I’m a 60-year-old woman. When did this happen?
Let me take you back to Friday. Friday, my dad and I went to a Morehead City Marlins game. It was a father-daughter date night. On the way to the field dad told me he tried looking up someone on Facebook and he said, “They must not be a Facebook user.” I replied back, “Yeah, this younger generation doesn’t really use Facebook. They are more of Snapchat and Instagram users.” My dad started laughing and repeated my, “This younger generation” in a mocking way. Laughing, I looked at him and said, “Seriously, dad, I can admit I am not young anymore. But my generation is probably the last that uses Facebook for social media and connections.”
Fast forward 15 minutes when we pulled into the Michael’s parking lot. I needed something from inside. Dad turned off the truck and followed me in. I went straight to the yarn aisle. I was there no more than 3 minutes when I hear my dad yelling, “Hey old lady, hurry up and pick out your yarn.”
Well, there you go ladies and gentlemen: My 65-year-old dad called me old. And he got quite the kick out of it.
Then, on Saturday, while I was at a friend’s house, her daughter wanted to show me the redecorating she was doing in her room. We went up to her room and asked my opinion on a few things. She sleeps on a twin bed and was trying to figure out what to do when she had guests sleep over. As I was giving her some ideas, she looked at her loveseat, chair and ottoman she got from me a few months back and said, “Or they could just sleep here.” The look I gave her must have warranted an explanation because she just stared at me when I finally replied, “Well, you are young. Young people can sleep anywhere. But there is no way I would be comfortable there. My back would be killing me.” After that comment I had to laugh at myself. “Wow. I just said that. I’m old!”
So here I am. 35 years old. I take daily multivitamins. I workout every day despite chronic back problems. And for this I purchased a $3,000 Tempur-Pedic mattress 3 years ago and receive regular injections in my back. I go to bed around 9pm every night. And I’ve recently started crocheting. Personally, I think I am trendy, hip and fashionable. But I’ve come to discover, if you call yourself “hip” you are probably old.
Hi. My name’s Anne. I’m not as young as I used to be. When did this happen?
