How To Hide A Wet Spot On Your Pants

I come from a time when Pluto was a planet, you didn’t have to pass security to go to a public restroom and pornography was hidden in the attic by your old man. I’ve been around long enough to accept that my future is behind me.

I’m getting an idea how others see me. When I had my driver’s license renewed I asked the clerk about donating my organs and she looked up at me and said don’t bother. When my kids visit they begin talking about ways to rearrange the house that doesn’t include any of my furniture. I had to ask someone I never met where I parked my car.

Doing a little writing these days, jotting down notes of advice to those whose shelf life is, like mine, expiring. I’m going to call my book “Playing Out Life’s String: A Guide To Old Age”.

It’s going to have some chapters like ‘How to Hide a Wet Spot on Your Pants’, ‘Leaving the House Isn’t That Important’‘, ‘If You’ve Lost Feeling Down There It’s Not All Bad’ as well as ‘Finding Your Way Back When Your Mind Wanders’.

By the way, did I ever tell you about my father? Stop me if you’ve already heard this.

My grandfather, on my mother’s side, had a little restaurant in Philly and my mom wanted to bring my dad into the business. Apparently my grandfather didn’t think much of him so he put him outside the store dressed in a cheese steak costume hawking customers.

Well, my dad brought in a lot of business. Even when he was offered a better position to work as a prime rib in front of a local steak house he stayed. Tragically he died from heat stroke during a particularly hot and humid summer when he overdid the garnish on his outfit during a promotion.

I’m not sure why I brought that up.

Anyway, I’m going to head over to a four way stop sign to watch the drivers figure out who’s up and who’s on deck. But one thing’s for sure, no matter which direction you take in life it always comes to a dead end.


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