I very quietly confided to my best friend that I was having an affair. She turned to me and asked, “Are you having it catered?” And that, my friend, is the sad definition of “OLD”
Just before the funeral services, the undertaker came up to the very elderly widow and asked, “How old was your husband?” “98,” she replied: “Two years older than me”. “So you’re 96,” the undertaker commented. She responded, “Hardly worth going home, is it?”
Reporters interviewing a 104-year-old woman: “And what do you think is the best thing about being 104?” the reporter asked. She simply replied, “No peer pressure.”
I’ve sure gotten old! I have outlived my feet and my teeth I’ve had two bypass surgeries, a hip replacement, new knees, fought prostate cancer and diabetes I’m half blind, can’t hear anything quieter than a jet engine, take 40 different medications that make me dizzy, winded, and subject to blackouts. Have bouts with dementia. Have poor circulation; hardly feel my hands and feet anymore. Can’t remember if I’m 85 or 92. Have lost all my friends. But, thank God, I still have my driver’s license.
I feel like my body has gotten totally out of shape, so I got my doctor’s permission to join a fitness club and start exercising. I decided to take an aerobics class for seniors. I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down, and perspired for an hour. But, by the time I got my leotards on, the class was over.
An elderly woman decided to prepare her will and told her preacher she had two final requests. First, she wanted to be cremated, and second, she wanted her ashes scattered over Wal-Mart. “Wal-Mart?” the preacher exclaimed. “Why Wal-Mart??” “Then I’ll be sure my daughters visit me twice a week”
My memory’s not as sharp as it used to be. Also, my memory’s not as sharp as it used to be.
Know how to prevent sagging? Just eat till the wrinkles fill out.
It’s scary when you start making the same noises as your coffee maker.
These days about half the stuff in my shopping cart says, ‘For fast relief.’
THE SENILITY PRAYER:
Grant me the senility to forget the people
I never liked anyway,
the good fortune to run into the ones I do, and
the eyesight to tell the difference.