Now I Know I’m Getting Old

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Until today, it didn’t really bother me that I’m short. Short is good on airplanes.

But short and OLD is really hard to take. As I type this viewpoint, my head is nodding up down like a Kirby Puckett bobble head doll. This afternoon I picked up my first pair of bifocals. Sheesh, that just does it. I tried to fight off the “I’m getting older” instincts when I turned 40 — no big deal. Then, I graduated to kids from High School, and one of my kids is halfway done with college. Yawn. But this bobble head thing is super-annoyting. See, I can’t even tyupe with confidence!

Go figure, I finally gave in to the eye doctor when I complained that I couldn’t see the golf ball on the green if it was more than 200 yards out. Remember the hole in one? It was 208 yards…I just couldn’t believe it was in the hole, until I pulled the damn thing out of the cup. Time for new glasses.

But here’s the deal — Dr. See More said that I had to get bifocals if I wanted to be able to see the ball after I hit it far, and also read the scorecard. What was the first thing I did when I got new specs? Yep, I went to hit golf balls. I can see them fly and land way out there — and I can read the scorecard. What I can’t do yet is see the ball clearly when I’m bending over to hit it. Eventually I’ll get used to the bobble head routine, don’t cha think?

So far, I’m feeling short, old, slightly whip-lashed…and working on a pretty good far-near-sighted headache buzz. It’s hell to get old.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]