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Lots to do for this new septuagenarian

By JIM BUSEK • Apr 18, 2017 at 10:00 AM

Last Monday was my birthday. Seventy years old. 70! It sneaked up on me like a thief.

And now I hope I am up to the responsibilities that come with the seven decade milestone.

I have already started with some things.

For instance, I have been telling everyone how cheap gas was when I was young.

I have been telling many of the same stories over and over (as if you had not already noticed).

I know all the places that give a senior discount.

I have a couple of aches and pains, and I make sure to talk about them constantly when I am with others of similar age.

I have learned that I can save a lot of time if I just pour any alcoholic or caffeinated drink directly into a urinal.

Blast from the Past is my favorite feature in this newspaper.

I do not know a single song or artist who has recorded songs since 1990 or so.

I frequently tell young people how great the ‘60s were.

So I know that’s a fair start on being 70. But there is so much more.

For instance, I have never spent an entire morning at McDonald’s. I know that at my age it is expected, but I will have to work up to it.

And there must be a book somewhere that illustrates how to hitch your pants up so that hardly any of your shirt shows between your belt and your face. Until I get it, I suppose I will just have to walk around looking like I am only 68 or 69.

I guess soon I will be needing one of those fallen-and-can’t-get-up things. And a Clapper. But I just have not had to time to get them on order.

I suppose sometime later this week I will be unable to get the lid off of a new jar of pickles. And by Saturday at the latest I am expecting to need help opening the cellophane on those crackers you get with Wendy’s chili.

That reminds me: I wonder if it is hard to get the cap off Metamucil. Guess I will be finding out soon enough.

Likewise, I am expecting hair to start squirting out my nose and ears pretty soon. At least now I know enough not to do anything about it.

In my car, I have already taped my turn signal into the “on” position. And, although I don’t know why, I will soon be putting some ball caps on its rear window ledge.

I am looking for a small dog to become the center of my life. I will build a shrine to it in a featured location in my home. It will sit on my lap when I drive. I will tell you many stories about it.

I have the Gaymont app on my phone.

And did I mention that I was going to get a Clapper? I did? Perfect. I am starting to get the hang of it.

Meanwhile, you will have to excuse me. It’s going on 4 p.m., and I have to start thinking about going out for dinner. (Note to self: bring home some sweetener packets from the restaurant.)

See what I mean? There are so many things to think about in my upcoming life as a septuagenerian.

This is all too much. I’m going to take a nap — I mean another nap.

And then I am going to run out and buy one of those bumper stickers that says “Inside every old person is a young person wondering what the hell happened.”

 

Jim Busek is a free-lance writer who lives in Norwalk. He can be reached via e-mail at jimbusek@ hotmail.com.

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