I'm having an 'I'm old" moment. Or maybe an "I'm old" week.
Last week, my tooth broke. Says the Dentist: "that's what happens when you get old". Saturday I wore my contact lens for a few hours too long, and woke up on Sunday with a painful and watery eye. Says the eye doctor: "as we age, we lose moisuture in our eyes, and can't tolerate our contacts as long." And in the past few days, my old dislocated shoulder injury has reminded me that putting on my bathrobe can be a very paintful experience. Old old old.
I know I'm complaining, when in fact I have nothing at all to complain about. I'm relatively healthy and relatively happy and have a relatively small number of grey hairs. People are still surprised when they find out I"m as old as I am. Heck, I don't feel nearly as old as I am. It is just those little reminders, sadly increasing in frequency, that become disheartening.
At least I can knit!