Today I turn 25 19. I'm not overly thrilled about it. Sure, I'm a quarter of a century old 19 year old on the outside, but on the inside what that really means is I'm going from an 80 year old woman to an 81 year old woman, and that really sucks.

What does one do when she is 25 19 on the outside (Lovell would say 13 on the outside but he's a drinker) and 81 on the inside?

One knits, drinks tea, watches Britcoms, reads Terry Pratchett and Jasper Fford, complains about the weather and young people today, has too many pets, eats oatmeal, wakes up at the crack of dawn and carries a bag of 100 prescriptions, all to do with symptoms that are only vaguely related to other things. Also, I spend a fair amount of time fighting with the Social Security people, who REFUSE to stop paying me even though I am technically working more than full time and have been doing so since last June.

Yes, I am elderly. On a good note, Harrison "the Stallion" Ambs' birthday was yesterday, and I hear when Stallions get to a certain age they "put them out to pasture." At least I'm not the only crippled horse stumbling around this two-bit town.

To commemorate, here is a bit of a conversation Harrison and I had via text message yesterday while we were both "working":

First, I sent Harrison a rather inappropriate picture message at 7:30 in the morning to say "Happy Birthday."
Harry: "That's the last time I open your messages on the bus."
Me: "Aw, you're no fun."
Harry: "Oh I'm eight inches of fun. I'm just saying I should have known better."
Harry: "What? No pithy comeback?"
Me: "Eight inches eh? Sorry, I prefer my men metric."
Harry: "Metric eh? Do you want it in furlongs as well?"
Me: "Oh baby, I want in leagues. Give it to me like an 1800s Canadian!"

So we see that as far as dirty mentally elderly people go, Harrison and I are up there, and that makes me feel better.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go fetch my cane, linament and plastic hat before I go to work.

Labels: idiocy