It’s hell gettin’ old
Having a child start kindergarten is a great big slap-in-the-face reminder that I’m getting old. And frankly, I’m way too young to be getting old.
I felt like I was too young to be getting married, too young to buy a house, too young to have a kid, too young to have a second, and certainly too young to have one start school.
Funnier yet, I was about to start the next sentence with “I’m only 31 years old…” but then I realized I’m actually 32 now. I feel like I’m way too young to be forgetting how old I am.
But as of recent I’ve noticed that my age is catching up with me from a physical standpoint, too. And if you’re only as young as you feel, then I feel like I should have a grandchild starting kindergarten.
Take for example when I went to work out today and immediately my foot started to hurt. Not while I was working out, mind you, but actually just after I put my workout shoes on. I think I even developed a corn on the bottom of my foot. Apparently my body is trying to convince my mind to not do anything stupid, like exercise.
Unfortunately these days my mind is too old to listen.
In days of yore I would get a good workout in and then be sore the next day. These days I get a piss poor workout in because halfway through I start getting sharp stabbing pains in my knees and my back seizes up.
Worse yet, I get really tired at night if I had a tough afternoon workout. In fact, I wrote the first half of this blog post 45 minutes ago but then fell asleep before finishing the rest.
And speaking of sleep, that’s officially reached the point where it’s no longer fun. I now know why old people only sleep like four or five hours a night: because it hurts too goddamn much to sleep longer than that. These days I’m apt to wake up in the middle of the night feeling like I’d just been run over by a snow plow. Stiff back, stiff neck…and I’m guessing I’m even getting old enough where one day the one thing I want to be stiff will be the only thing that isn’t.
Meanwhile, my climb out of bed is like a trip down the cereal aisle. First there’s a snap, crackle, pop and then a Captain Crunch and then when I finally step down from the bed my Corn Pops. Sometimes my Honey Smacks me just for Kix to help get me going. It’s a Total nightmare, but such is Life.
Shit, I’m even getting so old that I think cereal puns are funny. In fact, I just murdered that joke. I’m a regular cereal killer.
Terrible, I know, right? Eh, give me a break. I’m not as young as I used to be.
Jason Wolverton is a comedy blogger who lives in Michigan. To read more of his musings, visit iamjasonwolverton.com