When I'm Sixty-Eight

My wife will be 62 in May. She planned to work until she was 67, but she got a new boss who is a real, certified, Class A, bona fide beech, so now my wife does not have a job. I figured since we will be at home together all of the time, maybe we should be like we were when first married, when she was 20 and I was 26, and we didn’t really know that much about how the other went about her and his daily schedule. We both were in college at the time, so classroom stuff took a lot of our days. Now, there are no classes; it’s just us. And, quiet frankly, abilities of the 20s are not the same as (for me) the late 60s. I have all the equipment to do jobs that need doing, but not the energy. For example, the back part of our place needs underbrush cleared out, and I have a new chain saw, but I can’t even get the damn thing started. There is other yard work that needs doing, and I have a nylon string weed/grass cutting device, but it is a big heavy thing and wears me out after about a half hour. I have a cord of round, fireplace-sized logs lying about and an axe, but after about 15 minutes with the axe, I am done.

Getting old sucks. That’s S-U-C-K-S.