This will mean I will qualify as “senior” for a few, not many, new services beginning on my birthday. Some public events such as concerts, plays, or movies, etc, might admit me as a senior, or I might be able to take a class at a senior rate, but chances are I’d have to be 60 or 62 or 65. But I can ask, won’t hurt. Sometimes I ask if there’s a disability rate or a low income rate for things. There rarely is.
I’m going to have to start carrying ID around that proves my age. My passport? It’ll do. The photo doesn’t look like me anymore (never mind what I weighed) but thankfully, I had my hair in a braid, and I honestly think that’s what has gotten me through security without anyone batting an eyelash. I could use one of those RMV ID cards with my address on it if I only I could afford it.
The day before I got this flu, I ran a mile and a half on the treadmill. I’m supposedly “spry” for my age according to my younger brother. Now there’s vocabulary I didn’t need to hear.
Now, doesn’t “spry” apply to someone in their 80’s or 90’s? Do I need to start wearing “hose,” lipstick, perfume, and an apron? Does my place have to smell like cookies every Sunday? Do I dye my hair blue and gossip all day long?
Or do I replace my operating system before Microsoft phases out XP, write another book, keep on running, and invite someone from the town government into this apartment real soon to see what a hellhole it is (my latest idea for improving conditions for us tenants).
Welcome to 2013, and happy birthday in advance to me.