Getting Old

I was at the counter of our local corner convenience store the other day buying a few things, when a voice greeted me. It was my neighbor, who, along with his brother, run a very successful dairy farm. I have tremendous respect for these two. They are smart, hard working and capable. These guys work outside all year long in all sorts of conditions, and are not much given to complaints.

Now this has been a hard winter up here. It started snowing early and kept at it. In addition, it has been very cold, and very windy; sometimes both at the same time. We are not strangers to these conditions, but the way they have lingered this year have put some of us on edge. Outside winter projects have had to be postponed again and again because working out there is just too hard.

My neighbor’s sole purchase appeared to be a large box containing numerous cans of beer. He had his purchase on the counter next to me, and he was slumped over the box, his face turned up toward me, with his eyelids looking pretty droopy.

Without a hint of irony, he looked at me, sucked in his breath, and said, “This shit is getting old.”

I did laugh a little as we both did, because it is a little funny. It was only when I got home and told the story to Alice that I let loose with a good solid laugh. About the time we can’t laugh about it anymore, we’d better be looking for some psyche-patching equipment.

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