Last night I felt my age was 108 or so. I spent some time in the yard yesterday, stuffing the remainder of the black plastic that used to be the floor of our now dismantled greenhouse into a leaf bag. I had stretched it out first thing yesterday so the sun would hopefully dry up the water and I could shake off the mud enough to get it into a bag. I hauled the bag around the back of the house to the garage, ready for next Tuesday’s trash pickup. I also spread a lot of grass seed on the rectangular section of mud out there now. Happily enough, we got a bit of rain later, so hopefully it’s a start for the area to go back to the tall grass area it was pre-greenhouse eventually. All that bending, pulling, and hauling and trips back and forth to the garage made my parts yell in protest later in the day, making my “feels like” age (like the heat index) soar to 108 or so.
I slept like a log last night, and feel only my actual age this morning. I have found that I have a new pet peeve – I react quite hostilely to being referred to as ‘elderly.’ I never thought about the word much. The picture in my head when I hear that word is someone VERY frail, who can barely get around, has little or no hearing, and can’t follow the conversation around him or her. They fall asleep at the drop of a hat, etc. (The fact that this sometimes is a good description of me is only a coincidence…. )
My hostility started during the pandemic, when they kept emphasizing the group at most risk for dying from the virus. I realized with horror they were talking about my husband and me! Yeah, we’re older than dirt and do have health issues, but that doesn’t translate to ‘elderly,’ in my opinion. We are fully vaccinated, so these two ‘elderly’ people are as safe as possible. I got hostile again this morning reading the local weather website. It’s suddenly summer here, and we may have to break down and turn on the a/c this afternoon. The forecast said, “Check on the elderly.” He was talking about US!
I get hostile realizing that the heartthrobs of the day on TV and in movies are young enough to be my son. At least I’m not old enough to be their grandmother – yet. I may be old, but I ain’t dead yet! I even feel maternal about my primary doctor! NOOOOOOO!!!!!!
I will just continue to keep on keepin’ on – working in my veggie garden; weed whacking in the yard; helping my husband get the irrigation system on, repaired, and scheduled; playing in my art room; reading; enjoying music; writing my blog posts; adding new products to my Etsy site; exercising; and more. Maybe I AM old enough to be considered ‘elderly,’ but I’ll think of myself as the person in the picture above until further notice. :0)
creativeartworksblog 