Getting old

No, not Rusty, although it is. I today have undeniable proof that I'm getting old besides the common perception that I'm delightfully curmudgeonous. Today I spent a couple of minutes looking for my glasses... when I was wearing them right on my face. Right on my face. Some may try to comfort me and let me know that I'm only 29 or as young as I feel blah, blah, blah. Balderdash. I don't need comforting. What could be better than being old? Young people are everywhere. The world is overrun with them, and they cause nothing but problems. But if you go somewhere where life is hard, it's the old people that are missing. Have you ever seen old people on the news in some barren African country running around in the back of a Toyota pickup with a mounted machine gun? How many old people run the neighborhood crack house that you are afraid to walk by after dark? Or do you ever lock your doors when you drive past a nursing home because you're afraid one of them is going to carjack you? Old people are great, and I'm proud to count myself among them. Anyone can be young; in fact everyone has to be. Only the select few get old. So don't comfort me because I don't need it. Old and bald, what could be better than that? Except to be married to my perpetually young wife. Now that is the best of both worlds.