You know you're old when...

I'm officially ancient. It's bad enough when your children think of you as decrepit. Explaining that black plastic disks are music records, smearing peanut butter and jam on crackers is not a new invention, and why and how I've managed to see every Bugs Bunny cartoon, well, that all comes with the parental territory.

These days the real age meter comes with the type of Muzak playing from store speakers. The other day I was in Walmart and heard English Beat's "Mirror in the Bathroom." It's one thing to hear some Bryan Adams or even Whitney Houston, but a relatively obscure ska hit? I swear, I got me the rhumetiz right there and then.

Never mind the constant daily spam for Viagra. Do they know something I don't?

Then my insurance guy calls to tell me my life insurance is due for renewal...AT THREE TIMES THE COST!!!.

Evidently I'm too old to insure.

Well, Gotta go now. I saw in the paper 'Depends' are on sale in the drugstore and I think I had better stock up.


Mike