I"M 83
instead if the election
I’m an old woman now. It took a long time and I’m proud of being 83. I’m starting the end run now, and feel superior to anyone younger than eighty. But don’t call me a senior. I can’t stand the condescending sound of that word. Call me old. There’s nothing wrong with old. I have always loved old things and old people. I loved my grandmothers. I loved my old teachers, Dr. Hunter and Mrs Recknagel. I love old books, old plates, old quilts, squeaky old rocking chairs, and old paintings, I love old memories, even the lousy ones because they are so far back in the past,. I love old mistakes I’ve learned from. I love writing. I even love my old writing. I love eating. I love cooking in cold weather. I love the alcohol I allow myself. I love swearing, especially FUCK THIS. SHIT. I love mystery. There is still life to be lived and many pleasures had. As for sex, don’t forget sneezing. I look forward to every one. A sneeze is an orgasm for the face.
ACHOO!
Ahhhh.
Love this. I referred to myself as a senior citizen in the post I published yesterday. I’d never called myself that before. I wasn’t being terribly serious but it shocked me that it popped out onto my page. I like calling myself old much more. But I’m not as old as you so can retain your superiority! xoxo
This is much better to read than listening to the election commentary that is droning downstairs. Enoy old!