I swear I am getting old. I refuse to accept that I have three sets of wrinkles clinging to my knee caps. Nor can I escape the sagging breast lines or the skin that increases to hang under my arms and eyes.
It’s difficult to say out loud that I may be old-fashioned. Many times I want to walk over to a guy and pull out my diaper pins and pin his pants up to his waist. That butt crack doesn’t do anything to excite me now a days.
I don’t want to admit I have sticky notes posted in several places in the house with my grocery list written on them, and then can’t locate the notes.
But, today is different. After four days in a row of forgetting to place the coffee filter insert back in the coffee pot, and after four days in a row I have had to clean up the flowing coffee on the counter top; I am getting older.
What will tomorrow hold? Not a leaking coffee pot, I remembered to place it in its rightful spot after washing it.
Who I am 