Tag Archives: getting old

Right on schedule.

Recently my lady has been traveling a lot for work. I generally have a list of all the amazing things I’m going to do in her in absence. Write. Draw. Finally take up woodworking. But as soon as she’s out the door, I wind up back in bed scrolling through pictures of old cars on Instagram.

Plans to make dinner become plans to eat cheese and crackers.

An evening filled with artistic introspection becomes an an evening filled with disappointing snippets of bad movies on Netflix.

And potential wild nights at the bar quickly become quiet evenings at home cuddling the dog. Last night, for example, I fell asleep at 9 and woke up at 5. I had to laugh this morning. My official introduction to adulthood started with a 9 to 5 work day. Now as I continue down the path of a fairly average dude, it looks like there’s a second 9 to 5 routine that will eventually rule my day-to-day.

One thing’s for sure—it’s nearly 10 AM and I could use a nap.

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Four, oh.

I’ve never been too fussy about age. I haven’t consistently seen that assigning numbers to people has ever led to very consistent results. So, as my 40th looms, I’ve invested far more time in planning a small celebration than considering the significance of creeping “over the hill” as the merchandise at the local party goods store likes to put it.

Then I nearly slipped and fell getting into the shower.

I tried to convince myself it was the bathroom’s fault for being outdated, but the mishap forced me to take a fresh look at my elderly future. Standing there completely naked with a slightly stubbed toe stirred up distant memories of my grandparents’ bathrooms—where the floors of their tubs were lined with small, flower-shaped traction stickers. As a kid, their purpose was a mystery. I thought they were there for decoration, or possibly to cover up a rust spot in the cast iron. But today, more than ever before, I know exactly what they were meant to do. And I may need a set for my birthday.

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Growing up is great.

Sometimes waking up and walking the filthy city streets of our North Beach neighborhood early in the morning gives me a thrill similar to the one I used to get after staying up all night and wandering home.

But at 1:45 AM I was comfortably situated on a mattress rather than a bar stool.

I’ve got a dog leash in my hand instead of a cigarette.

Best of all, I know exactly where all my stuff is.

Specifically (in no particular order):
– Car
– Wallet
– Keys
– Brain

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Is this thing on?

The gray is starting to appear, and I’m no where near being the man I’d hoped to be at this juncture. Still crammed into small spaces. Still no savings to speak of. Still motivated by small, simple endeavors. 

When I was a kid, my parents seemed like adults and followed a certain orderly process. Cars in the garage. Yard trimmed. Hamburger Helper on the table. 

I never wanted any of that, but I often wonder what it would be like. The comfort zone. The safety zone. The not-too-spicy, fall-asleep-after-the-evening-news zone. 

Something tells me I’m not destined to find out anytime soon. Maybe I’ll look good in gray? 

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Give it away now.

As the years pass and the gray hairs in my beard multiply, I find myself thinking a lot more about what I have to offer the world—rather than the other way around. So here you go. Just a few things I don’t need anymore that you can take home today.

A broken teak table with wobbly legs and four really heavy chairs that like to snag expensive women’s clothing. Bring a truck. If you plan to break it all down for a bonfire on the beach, please keep your intentions to yourself.

Half a closet of ill-fitting, pseudo dress up clothes bought for awkward client presentations in Bannockburn, IL.

Two Rubbermaid crates filled with gently used, made-in-China Harbor Freight tools. I probably wouldn’t rely on them for major home improvement or auto repair, but they’ll get you by in a pinch.

A basket full of various over-the-counter drugs that probably expired in 2013. If you’re suffering from cold or allergy symptoms, I may have the outdated relief you’re looking for.

That about sums it up. All my excess worldly possessions. Please contact me if you’re interested. All items are being gifted “as-is.” I assume no responsibility for any damage to property or persons.

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Putting it all together.

Here at work we spend a lot of time sitting in circles with laptops. And overactive, under-stimulated brains combined with super-fast Wi-Fi can steer concepting sessions in all sorts of directions. It was Monday afternoon and instead of strategically defining the logistics of a plan to sell electronics around the holidays, we were thoughtfully discussing the finer points of our favorite childhood toys.

But the generation gap at the table was making things complicated. While many had grown up with Game Boy, the rotary-dial-era folks like me were stuck on Stompers and Stretch Armstrong.

It was just about time to change the subject.

And then I mentioned my Lego collection. A sense of common ground and unity washed over the group. Apparently Legos had transcended my 80’s childhood and been a big hit for the Millennials as well. Various trips down memory lane followed.

I built houses!

I built space ships!

I built torture chambers for Beanie Babies!

The whole discussion left me yearning for something to do with my hands. Which ultimately led to this blog entry.

Happy Friday, friends. Hope your weekend is filled with simple pleasures and idle aspirations.

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The facts of life.


Happy Friday, friends. Enjoy your weekends. Unless weekends aren’t your thing. In which case, enjoy this song.

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