Aging Bryfully

On my birthday I was so excited to report I had no gray hairs. But I failed to report the signs of aging in other aspects of my life. 

I've recently started listening to country music radio. Because it is quieter. The new Lady Antebellum is pretty mellow, pretty, and smooth. And I don't have to mentally answer "no" to the lyric "Do you ever feel like a plastic bag blowing in the wind wanting to start again?" Seriously, I think Katy Perry is the most annoying person in the world right now. 

I yell at the news. Kinda embarrassing when sitting in Starbucks reading the paper or websites. Everything is outrageous, everyone is incompetent, it seems. If you hear me mumbling about social security, please ignore.

Shorts and skirts are too short. If I can see your knees, you need to cover up. (This one actually might be related to my desire for fall to HURRY UP and get here already. If it is nice enough for shorts, it is not nice enough for scarves). 

The price of prescription drugs is outrageous. I'm on one prescription drug and it costs me $10. I'm mostly upset for other people. 

I think I might need toothpaste for sensitive teeth. 

The other night I had a dream I was in a coma for a year. It was disturbing. I woke up and downloaded an estate planning kit. I have not filled it out yet because I'm still trying to figure out how to properly word my desires for the care of my Snuggie and book collection. 

I'm not old. I'm not old. I'm not old. 

But sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I hear all the bones in my body crack and it sounds like velcro. 

I've an overwhelming urge to cut my hair really short just so I don't have to mess with it, and by mess with it, I mean brush it. 

I've asked myself more than once, "Am I getting enough calcium?"

I think it is obvious I have a lot of time on my hands these days.

My old, wrinkly, hands.