Wednesday, December 01, 2004

December 1st - 10 daze from 55-years-of-age

When I went to bed last night the overhead light in the bathroom had burned out. I hate taking showers in the dark, but the over-sink light was still putting out about 60 watts so I crashed without taking care of my responsibilities. I am constantly reminded of my responsibilities by Mrs. Stomps With Foot, but that in itself is another story. This morning, during the first part of my SSS habit (Shit, Shave, Shower) the light flickered on. Whaaaa? Cool, this is going to be a great day. It was very nice to be able to take care of business with full luminence.

My pet dachsund, Redford, also affectionately known as “red-hole,” “red-dawg,” or “reddle” (short for red-hole) was anxious for his morning routine of SSS (Sniff, Shit, Sniff) as well, and I was not surprised that he took care of his business in record time - it was 30˚ and he much prefers to do his thing where it is warm, like in the middle of the carpet.

After scraping ice from the windshield of my '98 Exploder, I arrived at work in record time. Coffee made, iTunes cranked up and here I sit thinking about reaching a milestone in my life – 55... the freaking speed-limit of the 80s. Man, am I that old. I still think like I am 25 (or less, depending on what age Mrs. Stomps With Foot decides my antics reflect). Just last week I was thinking I needed a t-shirt emblazoned with REQUIRES CONSTANT SUPERVISION across the front. It seemed appropriate at the time as I was acting like a 2-year-old.

Now I am looking down the barrel of age 55, and a barrel of anything with a bunghole looks pretty good to me. Perhaps what Jimmy Buffett said was correct and this old Parrothead thinks it is worth repeating... "I'm growing older, but not up."