Happy Getting Older Day

I’ll be 42 tomorrow, and I feel every year of it this morning. Apparently, I don’t have to lift anything, bend too much or over-tax any particular muscle to wake up sore and creaky.

And that doesn’t mean waking up in a bad mood. That part comes naturally.

Now, I can add random aches and pains and stiff muscles to the reasons I hate getting out of bed.

If I could figure out how to do it, I would probably never get out of bed. Ben Franklin was that way about his bathtub. He had one made with a writing surface that flipped over, and he spent hours on end soaking. He took meetings and conducted business from the comfort of his tub. (I’m assuming that the ersatz desk covered his naughty bits. Or maybe the esteemed Ben was an exhibitionist…Food for thought.)

I, unfortunately, have not found a way to live my life from the comfort of my bed. The pizza and Chinese food delivery boys have a hard enough time finding our apartment as it is, so I doubt I could convince them to deliver bed-side.

For clarification to those whose minds naturally descend to the gutter, I’m talking about getting take out and not getting laid.

Shannon and I have a very strict look but don’t touch policy when it comes to cute delivery boys. I hate to say I’m this shallow, but the better looking, the bigger the tip. This is what dirty young men do when they turn into dirty old men.

And that’s one reason we’re still together: we can unabashedly admire the beauty in delivery boys and other men without the fear of jealousy on the other’s part. It usually goes something like:

“Wow! Did you see that?”
“Uh-huh. Quite fine.”
“Wouldn’t kick him out of bed.”
“Nope.”

Tomorrow, I’ll be one step closer to being a certified dirty old man. But I’ll be dirty old man who knows who he’ll crawl into bed with tonight.

Part of the beauty of a male-male relationship is that we both know that the other is going to take note of good-looking specimens. We’re hard-wired for it (no sexual pun intended).

So we both look, but we don’t touch. Neither of us is that shallow. Or stupid.

I’ve already gotten a really good dirty-old-man day present, though, and the giver doesn’t even know he gave it. He carded me. I’ll be 42 tomorrow, and I got carded yesterday.

I got carded!!!

God works in mysterious ways. I’m quite sure that the convenience store clerk didn’t know that he was an agent of the divine delivering a much-needed gift to someone afflicted by old-man disease.

I just wish he would’ve of rated “wouldn’t kick him out of bed.”

Oh, well. Can’t have everything.

God is good but has a wicked sense of humor.

I'm not complaining, though. Any bright spot on a cloudy day I welcome.