Yesterday my daughter e-mailed me again, asking why I didn't do something useful with my time.
“Like sitting around the pool and drinking wine is not a good thing?” I asked.
Talking about my "doing-something-useful" seems to be her favorite topic of conversation.
She was "only thinking of me", she said and suggested that I go down to the Senior Center and hang out with the guys.
I did this and when I got home last night, I decided to play a prank on her.
I e-mailed her and told her that I had joined a Parachute Club.
She replied, "Are you nuts? You are 78 years old and now you're going to start jumping out of airplanes?”
I told her that I even got a Membership Card and e-mailed a copy to her.
She immediately telephoned me and yelled, "Good grief, Mom, where are your glasses?!
This is a Membership to a Prostitute Club, not a Parachute Club.”
"Oh man, I'm in trouble again,” I said, “I really don't know what to do. I signed up for five jumps a week!!”
The line went quiet and her friend picked up the phone and said that my daughter had fainted.
Life as a Senior Citizen is not getting any easier, but sometimes it can be fun.
I didn't really think that this was particularly funny, but it did make me think about life in our house. I mean, real life. So, as we used to say 70 years ago, I put pen to paper and described my daily life to my younger antagonist this way:
I don't know about you, but I spend about 10% of every day looking for my glasses. Then I spend another 10% looking for my coffee cup. I move from there to spending another 10% scouring the house looking for my wallet. I finally find it before I start spending the next 10% over-turning everything that is not tied down or glued in a search for my car keys. All of the above happens before or after [I can't remember which] I have begun working at my computer for the day. At that moment I start spending 10% of the day looking for the electronic files that I carried over from yesterday. Finally, I have just spent 10% of my day scouring my memory for the completed items that I can remember are the fruit of my daily travails. This is the detailed description of a typical day in the life of Puttss Dion. I can't remember on what day I did this but the fact that I can see it in front of me means that I have found my glasses and have remembered to do it. I didn't have to remember who sent it to me because his name is right up there at the top of the paragraph. (Deleted to protect his anonymity)
I think I have accounted for about 70% of every day {I can't remember exactly how much}. The reason I can't remember what I do the other 30% of the time must be because I am sleeping on the couch then. It's easier to find than my bed!
After reading this, you'll know that crying at my funeral would surely be a giant waste of time... I will have forgotten who you are.
You heard it here first, remember that!
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