I really wouldn’t say I’m old — not old old anyway — but I’ve got some miles on the ol’ body, and my mind has sorted through a lot of debris that has accumulated over the 69 years of wreckage as I’ve been driven to maturity. However, though I will not admit being “old,” I have noticed a few loose threads in the fabric of my constitution. The other day I drove to the grocery store, then walked home and, as I walked up my drive-way, wondered where my car was. That has a tendency to cause one to start discussing with one’s self the possibility of Alzheimer’s, desperately hoping all the while that the affliction is the result of another dread disease with the exact same symptoms called Oldtimer‘s.
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