Forty-niner

This is my birthday month.  I’m turning forty-nine.  Does that sound old to you?  It sounds old to me even though I will insist that “old” people are at least eighty or ninety or maybe a hundred.  But mathematically, forty-nine is practically fifty and fifty is twenty years old than thirty and didn’t thirty seem like a grown-up age when you were thirty?  I’m old enough to have children who are doctors and lawyers and who have children of their own.  (Not that my own children do because they aren’t old enough for such things but mathematically, you know, it’s possible.)

I’m at the age where plain old eyeglasses are no longer adequate.  The eye doctor has set me up with progressive contact lenses.  This last time, he gave me a lens for my left eye that will help me see up close and a lens for the right that sees distances.  The issue is that I see blurry when I’m driving, especially at night.  And I’m the kind of person who will put a hand over one eye and then the next to figure out which eye is not working right.  So if you see a woman driving with one hand over her left eye, then one hand over her right, you’ll know why.  I’m trying to figure out which eye is making things blurry.

I can see up close perfectly fine without any lenses or glasses, so I’d rather see perfectly at a distance.  I can always  use reading glasses to undo what the contact lenses have done.  At night I take out my contacts and wear glasses for distances.  I take them off while I’m reading. I just really want to see the signs when I’m driving.  I don’t think that’s too much to ask.  It is, however, awfully complicated.

Yeah, so this is what it’s like being oldish.  You start talking about your ailments and frailties and it’s super boring for you whippersnappers.  But why are you reading an old lady blog anyway?  That’s the question.

I thought it would be fun to use this month to recall moments from days gone by.  I thought maybe I’d start today with my earliest memories and move forward through the years but as fate would have it, I spent all my time and space talking about my eyesight, so an actual story will have to wait until tomorrow.

Try to contain your enthusiasm.  At least I didn’t mention what happens at my advanced age when you cough.  Ha.  (Raise your hand if you know what I’m talking about.)

Now get to bed.  You need your beauty rest!  (Or if you’re reading this in the morning . . . Good morning, Merry Sunshine!  You look so dewy and well-rested this morning!)