Senior Moments

Ah, those senior moments!  I’m not a senior yet.  Depending on one’s point of view, I’m not even close.  If one is from the old school opinion that one is a senior at 65, then I’m way far away from being one.  If one thinks that 55 is a senior, then I’d better slow down or I’ll crash! Lately, I’ve been thinking that I’m closer to being a senior than my age and stamina would reveal...

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One morning last year, our cars were parked in the driveway, one behind the other.  Jackie and I were leaving for work at the same time that day.  We got in our respective vehicles, with mine being in the front and hers being in the rear. Both cars were warming up nicely, and I was groovin’ with the sound of the Oldies.  When the car was warmed up and the windshield was clear, I began to back up, still groovin’.  Fortunately, I was not going fast because I hit Jackie’s car and scared the wits out of both of us.  We laugh now, but it does not put one’s wife in a good mood when her husband hits her car with her in it, in their own driveway...

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This past holiday season, the adults in the school in which I work delivered donated foods to needy families in the vicinity.  My coworker and I set out with our food and had two deliveries to make.  Suddenly we realized we had forgotten our directions, so she went in to the building to retrieve them.  Upon her return, she realized that she had forgotten some Christmas goodies that we wanted to deliver to another coworker who could not be in school at that time.  I said I would go in this time and get the bag of goodies.  I went into the building and sometime between getting through the door and getting to the classroom, that bag of gifts became the directions again in my brain.   I looked and looked for around five minutes for them, then gave up and went back out to the car, telling my workmate that I couldn’t find the directions.  “You goober!” she exclaimed unkindly.  “You weren’t looking for the directions. You were looking for the gift bag!  I’ll go back in and get it.” I said, “Okay, I’ll drive you to the entrance.”  We proceeded to a student drop off area that had a sign that said ONE WAY.  I said, “OOH, I can’t go here, it’s one way!” and proceeded to drive around the parking lot.  My coworker said, “Yes you can go there, you goober, you’re going one way, but you’re going the right way!”  I shamefacedly parked in front of the door, feeling quite inept. She went in and got the bag, and we were finally on our way. We made the gift bag delivery, and proceeded to the first house, which was supposed to be near a library that we were both familiar with.  We drove around that whole town before we realized that the library had moved from where we remembered it being.  Finally, we found the library and the first house.  We entered a foyer at the top of a set of steps, and rang doorbells for unmarked doors and got no answer.  We went down the set of steps and looked at the directions again, and realized that the word BASEMENT  was part of the address.  What was supposed to take six minutes, according to the directions, took 45. Fortunately, though, the instructions said it would only take us three minutes to find the second house. It took us ten. We were indeed getting better at this. My coworker laughs too hard  every time she tries to tell the story... 

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Recently, Jackie and I became the proud owners of a car with a remote control set of keys.  Not only does it have buttons to unlock the doors, but there is also a button that will open the trunk!  Several times in the last few months, I have gone outside and started the car and a light came on telling me that the trunk was open.  Now I know that I didn’t open the trunk.  It could not ever be that I pushed the button by mistake when I took the key off the key rack...AND I WASN’T THE ONE WHO MADE THE CAR ALARM GO OFF FROM THE KEY RACK EITHER!  It was pretty embarrassing to hear a car alarm and say with a chuckle, “Some idiot must have set off his car alarm by mistake, laugh laugh!” only to realize that it was my car making the noise...
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A few weeks ago, I was entering the retirement facility where my mother lived, and boarded the elevator to go to the second floor.  Before too long I was reading the calendar of activities posted on the elevator wall.  Suddenly it was growing warmer and stuffier in there.  When would I be at my destination and begin to feel better?  Why did the door stay shut when the elevator stopped moving?  SOMEONE FORGOT TO PUSH THE BUTTON FOR THE SECOND FLOOR!  That elevator didn’t even get off the ground!

Later the same day, I had gone to the car and was returning to the elevator.   Once I was in, I again began to read the calendar beginning where I left off.  Suddenly I began to feel claustrophobic and hot in the elevator just like before.  Once again, the door of the elevator was shut and it wasn’t moving.  SOMEONE FORGOT TO PUSH THE BUTTON FOR THE SECOND FLOOR AGAIN!

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I’m one to constantly check my pockets to be sure my wallet, keys, comb, and cellphone are there when I need them.  Throughout my Mother’s illness, I became something I never wanted to be or even thought I’d be...a cellphone user!  I cannot even keep track of the number of times I was talking on my cellphone to my family members and did my usual pocket check, and went into panic mode thinking my cellphone was missing.  After a few moments of rechecking my pockets and circling the room looking for it, the mystery was solved.  IT WAS ATTACHED TO MY EAR!  Usually I laughed it off with whomever I was talking to at the time, but by about the third time, I began to worry.

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I remember the past few summers when my son Brian was performing at a theater that was too far away to drive him to and come back home. So I’d keep myself busy for the three hours of rehearsals. This was before my high fiber and low fat diet, so every night I'd get two hamburgers, small fries and small drink from McDonalds, and pay $4.01.  One night, for some reason, the total came to $3.48.  It was less than usual, so I didn't question it.  Then I got to my seat, looked at the receipt, and realized that the little bastard behind the counter charged me for a 'senior drink'.  What, you see someone with thinning white hair and you assume they are a senior.  I have a little more time left as a junior...the little no good bastard!

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 Today my daily routine began quite on schedule.  I took out the coffee and filters and began scooping and brewing.  I mixed the oatmeal with brown sugar, cinnamon, milk, blueberries, and a banana, and loaded and set the microwave.  Then, I played those couple of irresistible games of Word Scramble on Facebook. When I lost...um...got tired of Word Scramble I scurried my hungry little stomach over to the microwave and pulled out that beautiful mess, and then proceeded to pour my coffee.....but alas, there was no coffee. SOMEONE FORGOT TO PUT THE WATER IN THE COFFEE POT!

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My wife worries about me.  She’s said many times that she expects to find the car keys in the refrigerator any day now, just like on the commercial.  I figure that if I can remember the incidents, retell them, feel bad about them, and laugh about them, then I’m still okay.  As long as my senior moments don’t hurt me or anyone else (though some have come close) and result in a laugh (in most cases), then I can learn from them. Maybe it’s the result of an overloaded mind, or a mind that’s not loaded enough, but having senior moments means that I’m still kickin’ and ready for more!  Ah, those senior moments!