No Country for Old Women

San Mateo

Erratic.

This is a stage of life I dread. Normally, I am as reliable as an old car. Turn the key and I fire up, ready to serve.

But lately, more and more, I notice that I am forgetful, inconsistent, unreliable (only in my personal life, Thank God, not in my professional world -- yet.)

As an example, consider this blog. I could have sworn I posted to it yesterday, and also to our sister site, Sidewalk Images, but it turns out that is not true. And swearing is not going to help the matter.

Long-time readers know I'm always going to be here for them, right? Well, almost always, it now needs to be admitted.

I remember my ex-girlfriend explaining to me one of the reasons she didn't want to stay involved: "Because I don't want to have to take care of you as you grow old." It sounds kinda cruel, but she was just being honest.

Who the hell would want to take care of an old guy?

Today, for some reasons the muscles in my thighs hurt. I have always had extremely strong legs. When I was young, and slender, I could run extremely fast. Nowadays, overweight, I cannot even run a few steps.

Lately, devoid of any exercise (always working or always parenting), I have done nothing to make my legs hurt. Maybe they are hurting because they are angry that I have done nothing to make them hurt.

Maybe they are calling out to be tested, while they still matter.

Who knows, I certainly don't. I've never paid my body much attention at all. It is what it is; it does what it does; more often than not it's gotten me into trouble in this world, whereas my mind has been much more reliably productive.

I guess this is the aging process. Still, I began this post kvetching about becoming forgetful and look where that led me, I am now complaining about my legs. That's old people for you: inconsistent, but always complaining about something.