Well, if I didn’t feel old before, today cinched it.
Dental hygienist, after looking at a tooth issue: “Have you gone through the change?”
“Um, not that I know of.”
“Do you take any medications?”
“Really? Wow, that’s really good.”
Dentist, after making sure I was mouth-healthy enough to leave, used the patronizing kiss of death: “Okay, young lady, we’ll see you in three months.”
Austin asked for a stamp. “I got bored one day in Atlanta. Do you have a stamp and can you mail my voter’s registration form?”
“Sure. I'll mail it along with my tear-stained AARP application.”
Then I filled out a survey and noticed the age group I’ll move to this year: 45-54. 54?!? Seriously?
And, last but not least, I cannot read the I-sware-it's-the-tiniest-print-I've-ever-seen directions on the bottle of fuel cleaner I bought today. I think it says something about the gas tank but can’t be sure.
All in one afternoon! I should start snoring in my chair any minute now.