You Know You're Old When... by Liz Flaherty

I forgot it was Saturday and no one reminded me! This was on another blog and Substack yesterday, so I'm sliding into home just behind the ball and using it here, too with a change or two. Plus adding a  plea for a vote at the bottom. Thanks as always for reading the Window. - Liz

In case you were in any doubt about it, there are ways to know you're getting old. Or already are. It is not necessary to admit it to anyone, so if you like, you can just keep it between you and me. 

On before-and-after pictures of home remodeling, you like the before better.

Your kids are the age you were when you first began to think you might be old.

By the time you get home from having your hair colored, your roots are showing.

Laughing hard comes with a penalty. So does sneezing. Coughing's not good, either. 

You no longer care what you have for supper. Or if you eat supper. Or if anyone cleans up after it. 

You begin to think of other generations in terms like snot-nosed brats.

You don't like it when other generations think of you as...all those mean things you see on Facebook.

You forget...well, no, you don't actually forget things--you just have to be reminded.

Making the bed takes enough energy that you need to sit down for a while. Maybe have something to drink and some chips. 

Being set in your ways becomes unattractive as you sink into curmudgeonity. (Nope, not a word, but it should be. Remember you saw it here first.)

You talk too much about being old. Not sure why that happens, but it does. Case in point, on your birthday, you even blog about it. 

Furniture displays remind you of lobbies in medical facilities. They all look alike and you can't find a comfortable seat. 

You still love buffalo plaid even though it seems to rule the fabric mosaic of the 21st century. 

A date includes a doctor's appointment, picking up a prescription, stopping at the grocery so you can forget what you needed to get, and going to lunch, followed by a nap.

You don't get why being a cat lady is a big deal. 

You've accepted that the f-bomb is a word that must be used in every sentence to show one's non-conformity to the mores of the 20th century--before buffalo plaid became the national design--but sometimes you still flinch. 

You've forgotten that you used to feel guilty about not doing spring cleaning, Now you just feel free. And somewhat dusty.

You know that the left lane is for passing. It's not for living in, road rage, or escaping...whatever the hell it is you're trying to escape. 

You know your faith is your own. You don't have to explain it, you shouldn't deny it, and you shouldn't expect everyone else to share it. 

You know not all old people are as well mannered as you are. This is undoubtedly because all their joints ache, their organs malfunction, and someone's trying to take their car keys.

You've seen more, cried more, laughed more, and loved more than anyone else in your family. You absolutely cannot believe how lucky you are.

Although I was old yesterday on my birthday, I'm older today and I don't feel one bit different. Blessed, though. Very blessed. Have a great week, and be nice to somebody. 

I'm pleased that the cover of Pieces of Blue is in the running for Cover of the Month at the AllAuthor site. If you like the cover, I'd so appreciate your vote. There are a ton of others there to choose from, too. Here is the link to vote. https://allauthor.com/cover-of-the-month/18151/  Thanks again!

Cover of the Month Pieces of Blue Hey Everyone, I’m excited to tell you that my book has been nominated for the "Cover of the Month" contest on AllAuthor.com. This will help me a lot if I could see some votes coming in, so please remember to vote my book. Vote Now »

Thanks, Liz Flaherty