YOUR WRINKLED WATTLES
We are a society gradually losing our spring.
His statement expresses it well.
So plaintive, so touching!
"My legs hurt, and I'm tired and fat!"
Seriously, I can empathize. I'm not fat, but I'm tired, and my legs hurt too. It's part of getting older. I wish I could still chase the young does through the fields of tall grass, but there are burs and ticks there, and the damned things keep getting away.
Of course, running is in any case undignified. The young does had better amble in a leisurely and dignified way if they wish me to ever catch them. And, now that I think about it, they had better also say something, and give some clear indications of their desire, because in addition to being older than I once was, I am somewhat oblivious, as I have always been.
Yesterday a nice young fellow tried to give me his seat on the bus. Upon refusing, I informed him that I am not that old. What I did not mention was that I hoped he would hold that seat for twenty or thirty years, by which time I shall really need it. Of course by then he'll be thirty five or forty five, and may be so weighed down by cares and kiddies that he should deserve the seat himself. Please sit, young fellow. It's going to be tough.
My legs hurt and I'm tired because I've been running around all day, doing stuff that the pudgy soda drinkers cannot do.
I've also been swilling tea all day.
I'm tired but wired.
Perhaps a young doe can sit here beside me while I contemplatively smoke my pipe. She can provide consoling company while I massage the calves.
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