Old folks home here we come!

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Over fifty years of age and here comes the mental test.

Submitted: July 28, 2017

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Submitted: July 28, 2017

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We all have those days when we forget things. Like entering a room and asking yourself why in the hell am I in this room. Followed by what was it I wanted to do in here? In my younger days recovering from a hangover would play tricks with my mind. Like thinking a Wednesday is a Saturday and rolling over and falling back to sleep, causing me to be late to work.

When you’re a young person, all these little brain quirks are fine and dandy. People just chalk it up to things like “Oh your just tired” another excuse given for you would be “All those kids you have, it’s a wonder you even have time to think.” But once you start aging all the excuses your friends and family would throw your way seem to dry up and become odd looks that they start flashing your way.

 Seems like my children come over when I am sleep deprived. I get goofy must say, but anyone would without enough sleep. But if you are over fifty or plus attitudes change. Then they start with the million questions. It’s like some kind of a weird mental test.

“Okay, Susie what’s your name?” I am thinking idiot you just told me my name.

“Okay, that was a bad question mom. Let’s try this one what year was my middle child born?”

Really I have sixteen grandkids, and I’m going to flunk this test because I have no clue what year a grandchild was born. I have a chart to keep track of their birthdays on my computer, didn’t think I needed to worry about the year.

Finally, after the drilling, I’m free to go about my business and make them lunch, lucky me.

I must confess there might have been a couple of times when one child or the other kind of saved our lives with her or his visit.  One visit reviled that a burner on the stove top had not been completely turned off and the house was filling up with gas. I didn’t smell it because my nose was congested as I was recovering from a cold. My husband was outside working in his garage, so he had no clue to the fact that our house was turning into a bomb.

Oh, of course, she freaked out and has reminded us both from time to time how she saved our lives.

 Then, of course, her next visit she discovers that we had left the oven on from the night before that incident hasn’t helped our case any. Maybe we are slipping a little.

Then there was this time when I came out of the grocery store, and my clicker won’t open my car.

“May I help you?” A young man asked me.

“My clicker isn’t working,” I responded, just as he hit his clicker and unlocked his car.

 “Oh sorry, I thought this was my car. I’ve only had it for a few weeks.” I felt like a fool, but his car and my car are both white.  Must have been the same white car at the post office the following week, it wouldn’t open for me either.

Then this morning when I woke up and opened our kitchen window shutters what do I see? My husband left his car door wide opened all night. He had been loading the car with gift bags for a conference he is attending this weekend and forgot to close the car door. Lucky for us cars have gotten smarter and figure after three hours have passed the owner isn’t going to close the door and turn the car interior lights off. Not to mention any thing or person could have climbed on in and grabbed a gift bag or two or just have drove away.  We were lucky this time no kids around to witness this one.

I told him this is the kind of stuff that is going to get us thrown into an old folk’s home, or have some random person coming over and visiting us from some agency making sure we are taking our medication’s.

We both agreed we needed to have each other’s back and make sure we remember to lock our doors when we leave the property (other daughter caught us on that one.)

 I guess if we have made it to our mid-sixties and haven’t caused each other’s death and our house is still standing we’re all good.  But if push comes to shove it was his car not mine this morning.  I’ll visit him as long as my car clicker works.

 


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