Being An Old Lady Is Gonna Suck

And I mean that in the nicest way possible or something.

I just spent a good amount of time thinking about this. Why? Because I'm just that efficient at everything else in life. So I had a few experiences with some "old ladies" this morning that set this train of thought into motion. I'll get to those in a minute, but first lets break down what it takes to be an appropriately crotechedy old lady.

Persnickety:

I'm pretty sure that I will never, ever be able to pull off the level of persnickety bullshit it takes to be a successful old woman. I just don't care enough about what those around me are doing or wearing to do this correctly.

I think you have to actually be able to use the term persnickety in a sentence without sounding like a total tool too.

However, there is hope because I do feel like bitching loudly or ramming my car into the achilles tendons of other people who block the produce I deem "purchasable" at the grocer's.

Never will I yell at my husband in the grocery store while he stands idly by ignoring me until he tells me to "Shut up you old bat".

Just saying.

Poor driving skills:

I just don't think I will ever be short enough or have the level of osteporosis necessary to actually look at the road through the steering wheel, rather than over it. All while balancing my little dog (that I already have) and adjusting my free rain hood that I got at the bank last week.

I might, just might go ahead and make that quick left turn at the stop light while you are still processing that the light just turned green though. I mean, I might be old but I'm pretty sure my reflexes will be quick enough to outwit you at this juncture and then give you the stink eye as I go careening onto the cross street.

This actually happened this morning.

At this point I have run out of witty things to say about old people. Perhaps it's that my tits already sag into my doubl- knit pants that even today's old people should not be old enough to actually wear, yet they do.

So I ran errands on my way to work this morning. First, I stopped at the grocery store where I was strongly reprimanded by the old lady ringing me up. Why? Because I placed my 24-pack of Diet Coke on the conveyor belt. I did this because the last time the lady looked at me like I was lazy for leaving it in the cart.

But this morning's sweet, old darling told me repeatedly that I should have just left it in the cart because she was smart enough to have the code written down. Didn't I think she was smart enough?

But in the end it was okay, because she continued on to tell me, repeatedly again, that I just didn't know. Like today's youth group of 30-somethings just doesn't have a clue.

Kids today.

During this entire barage of guilt laden ranting, I was trying desperately to listen to the crazy hag that was sacking my groceries. She spent the entire time talking to herself. Not in the "I'm talking but no one is listening" way but in the "I'm talking and no one EVER listens" way.

It was an entire monologue about how she was just too old to deal with this shit. I think she was annoyed by 24-pack granny and wanted to enjoy retirement peacefully, drinking scotch, the way God intended.

I don't really know.

I realize I risk sounding disrespectful to my elders but that's okay. They were all fucking looney tunes this morning and I saw myself headed down that same path. And when I get there I hope somebody tells me how much I suck...

Like the dried up raisin at the post office. Who had typed all of her envelopes to mail her bills in and wanted a return receipt for each bill she was mailing.

I waited patiently, but then nearly lost my shit when she started telling the postal worker how to do her job.

So when I finally start making my own t-shirts the very first one is going to say:

Being An Old Lady Sucks

Because it does and you can true dat.