JUST ANOTHER SENIOR MONDAY*
My billfold with money, credit cards, driver’s license, and golf ID.
A new sleeve of three golf balls.
Take two Ibuprofen for my arthritic hip.
I’m ready to go and I set the house alarm, step outside and lock the door.
“Damn, I forgot to take the Ibuprofen.”
Now, the alarm is doing its beep-beep thing and I’m afraid that if I go in, by the time I put in the code correctly (I sometimes miss on the first try) the alarm will go off, the alarm company will call, and I don’t know the secret password. I think its RUMPLESTILTSKIN, but what if they ask me to spell it? Anyway, I wait until the alarm does its beep-beep-beep-beep thing and then quits.
I go inside, key in the stop alarm number, get my sleeve of golf balls, reset the alarm, go outside, and lock the door.
“Damn, I forgot to take the Ibuprofen.”
I go through the same alarm crap, go inside, key in the stop alarm number and remember to take my billfold; I set the alarm, go outside and lock the door.
“Damn, I forgot to take the Ibuprofen.”
One more time with the alarm, I take the Ibuprofen, reset the alarm, lock up and finally I’m off to the golf course.
I played pretty well. My recorded score for nine holes was 45. My actual score was 48. My should-have-been score was 42. Forty-two is a very good should-have-been score for me.
I go home on cloud nine, and Mrs. Cranky wants to go out to dinner.
We pull into the restaurant and I realize I forgot my billfold.
“I don’t know what happened, you must have distracted me; I never forget my billfold. Anyway I have been having a senior day.”
“Sure, blame me. No problem, I have a credit card with me.”
When we get home after dinner I go to where my billfold is usually kept. It was not there.
“I know why I forgot my billfold. I always put it in my golf bag, and I forgot to take it out after I was done.”
I go out to the car and check the only two pockets in the bag I would ever use. No billfold.
Now I am upset…I may have yelled…I may have used bad language.
“I am fucked! I had about $45, two credit cards, and my driver’s license in that billfold, not to mention all my health insurance cards.”
“Calm down, are you sure it’s not in the golf bag?”
“Yes I’m sure, I just checked, you need to drive me to the course, it may still be in the parking lot.”
“Let me check the bag.”
“It’s not in the bag, I JUST CHECKED…nothing…nada…zippo…I AM FUCKED.”
“I’m going to check the bag.”
“It’s not in the flaming bag! I just double checked. I have to cancel all my credit cards, and get a new license, and who knows what hell it will take to get my insurance stuff. I am FUCKED!!”
I follow Mrs. Cranky out to my car.
“It’s not in the bag; you have to drive me to the course.”
This, by the way is a big deal because “Dancing With The Stars” is about to begin on the TV.
“I am Fucked!”
“No you are not, and I’m not driving you to the course.”
“Why not?”
“Because here is your billfold, it was in the pocket with your rain jacket.”
“What, I never use that pocket.”
“You did today...jerk.”
I l o v e Mrs. Cranky.
*A re-run from October 2014
I'm glad this is a re-run and you didn't actually have a repeat day exactly the same.
ReplyDeleteSenior moments can be a problem. Especially when one goes upstairs to the bathroom and discover we live in a one storey bungalow.
ReplyDeleteGod bless.
Well there, I'm usually on the other end of this stick with Queenie saying, then insisting, then declaring, followed by yelling, and occasionally blocking my attempt to look 1) Where she insists it can't be OR 2) Where she already looked.
ReplyDeleteI think she's a looker, but she really has issues looking.
I'd rate this as funny except it happens to me all too often and I can no longer laugh at myself or anyone else about it.
ReplyDeleteShe's a life saver. Don't you just hate days like that?
ReplyDeleteEverybody needs a Mrs. C. And perhaps a translator for her grocery lists.
ReplyDeleteShe is still around since 2014 so I am guessing you have quit fighting and just go to her for lost items. Also, I keep a bottle of Tylenol, my pain killer of choice, in the car. Of course that would have eliminated half your funny post. Aging isn't easy but it is not boring.
ReplyDeleteJust like my Sweetie -- it's not there! it's not there! I already looked! and yet, there it is when i go look. He claims i am magic and he's right.
ReplyDeleteThank heavens for Mrs. C!
ReplyDeleteMrs. Cranky knows you too well. I, too, have followed my husband's paths to find lost items.
ReplyDeleteI know you love her, but don't you just hate it when she's right?
ReplyDeleteYeah, I bet she can call you jerk any day now.
ReplyDeleteI think it's just something about the male half of the species. I can't even tell you hoe many times hubby "looks everywhere" for something, decides it's gone, lost, etc, and then I find it in about 30 seconds.
ReplyDeleteDon't feel lonely...I've gone to the store for salt - and $60 later came home only to realize I'd forgotten the damn salt.
ReplyDelete