Things are getting old around here—and not just people. My garbage disposal started growling at me when I expected it to function. Then it didn’t growl any more. I need a new garbage disposal. I procrastinate and get along without it for the present. My husband and I are still sheltering, and we choose to avoid shopping for a new disposal right now. And we don’t want a repair man coming into our home at this time.
I have a knife rack that folds up under my top kitchen cupboard. I lower it to get a knife and hear a loud snap. A broken spring flies past my ear. I pick it up and see that the end of it is completely missing. We’ll either have to find a compatible spring or buy a new knife holder. I check on Amazon. There are several choices. I can choose one that folds down. This one is similar to the one that just broke. Or I can install one that rolls out like a drawer. We decide to get by until we can go to the hardware store and look for a spring.
Things are getting old around here—and not just appliances. I reluctantly admit that age is catching up to me. I didn’t think that getting old would be so hard. It takes me fifteen minutes to do a ten-minute walk. I don’t feel old on the inside. But my legs and knees and energy level don’t agree with me. My knees complain if I expect them to kneel on the floor. My hips complain if I walk for more than ten minutes on concrete. I take a walk or go shopping or cook dinner and then I feel like I need to sit down and take a rest. I wake in the night with knots in the muscles of my legs.
I laugh and joke about my advancing age. “I may grow older,” I tell my children. “But I refuse to grow up.”
“We believe you,” my daughter says.
“I’m going to live to be a hundred or die trying.” That one gets a laugh, but no verbal response.
“I plan to live long enough to be a real problem to you kids,” I tell my daughter.
“Mom, that’s why you have seven kids,” she responds. “You won’t be a problem to any one of us for very long.”
Yep. I’m getting old—but it isn’t time to let go of this aging body. It’s still functional and useful to me. I’ve got a lot of living to do yet.
You go, Rose 🙂