I’m not sure what it is about getting older, but it has made me less inhibited and more capable of handling everyday challenges, though not always in the most conventional way. Every morning before work, I enjoy a nice cup of hot tea and marbled rye toast with melted butter in its nooks and crannies. I used to watch the news, but it had become overwhelmingly depressing. Instead of focusing on gloomy news, such as the melting ice caps that could eventually (in 200 years?) flood us all, or the ongoing political drama involving Biden and Trump, I made a conscious choice to watch recordings of Judge Judy instead.

I find entertainment in the small claims court cases, which are usually straightforward. It never ceases to amaze me how many people believe it’s acceptable to not pay rent just because they don’t have the money, or those who defend their pets after they›ve mauled a neighbor or a child, insisting the victims provoked the attack. It breaks my heart when it’s a parent suing a child or vice versa, often over money. My own daughter may have borrowed money from me and not paid it back, but I would never shame her publicly on national television!

While downing my tea and toast this morning, I noticed that the toast was super crumbly, due to Hubby cooking it on “air fry” instead of “toast”.  My ample bosom generally catches crumbs, but on this day the abundance of crumbs slipped right down the front of my dress and settled in my bra.  AAGGHH!!  As I walked to my car to drive to work, the crumb irritation annoyed me, so I stood in the middle of my front yard and bent over at the waist, hands touching the ground.  I shook my bosom back and forth, trying to use gravity to get the offending tidbits out, but they were stuck to my skin. I then resorted to using my hands to try to bust them out, sweep sweep, brush brush. By now, the blood had rushed to my head, my face felt warm, I started to get dizzy, and I fell over sideways, making a spectacle out of myself. This became extra public because this was in the morning and the traffic down our street heading to the junior high school whizzed by at a frantic pace, increasing the audience.

I recently attended a social event to raise money for purchasing food for school children during the summer. The tickets were priced at 5 for $1. I donated twenty dollars to the cause and ended up with 100 tickets. They decided to make it colorful, so the tickets came from five differently colored rolls. Normally, when the tickets come from one roll, the numbers are consecutive, but the different colors annoyed me. Since the numbers weren’t consecutive, I would have to look through each ticket to see if I had the winning number, which would be very time-consuming. My husband looked at me with amusement and wisely commented, «Just look at the color of the ticket they pull… that should narrow it down!» Duh! I laughed.

Getting older has messed with my brain, I guess.  I am not only much less inhibited, but I tend to not always think logically. Add to that the names I cannot remember along with my super careful driving, and one would think I had passed my peak. The trip to the other side will be so much fun!