Old people don’t like change. I am old and I don’t like change, but I never liked change when I was a kid. I always wanted to know what was coming maybe because I never did. My dad was a 50’s dad so he just decided things like when we would take a ride about town and get a curly cone. No warning, just “Let’s go”. On weekends he would sometimes give us thirty minutes warning to “pack your things cause we are a goin’ to Granny’s”. No surprise that when I could shape some of my own life I had lists and notes and plans. I like to know what tomorrow will bring.
I hated the Jetsons riding around on moving belts, flying in air cars, or letting a robot vacuum for them. It was all chrome and speed; I was comfortable with calico and comfort. Yet, I never wanted to be an old person who would be grumpy about change. I hoped to be the kind of old person who kept up with the times, who was flexible, who enjoyed coming attractions.
Lately I have been feeling real cranky. I have itchy skin that makes my flesh crawl and burn, but modern medicine says it must be the air or the food or something I am coming in contact with each day. I remember when food was authentic stuff, not fabricated goo or weird hybrids. The weather is like now a fire eating dragon who harasses the princess in the castle. I remember when there were four seasons in a predictable pattern—and when you bought swim suits in the summer and not in March! I remember when you read books to find information instead of digging in your pocket for a talking box.
See, I sound old. Oh, I use modern stuff. Gave into microwaves long ago, and I Google for facts now instead of traipsing to the library. I even joined Facebook, but I can’t remember why! I resisted blogging, but melted down on my stand to find I loved it. But now, whoever Anonymous is…well, he is driving me mad. He is like a nat dive bombing a bunch of ripe bananas, showing up when least expected and needs crushing, but I can’t catch him. Why should I have to contend with Anonymous?
A few nights ago, DH had to go to the emergency room 60 miles away. From 10:00 pm to 6:00 am, I was forced t listen to televisions and radios in waiting rooms, exam rooms, and even the car (trying to stay awake to drive!) with the latest news about the horrid government checking on who calls whom in this country. Oh horrors, Google turns advertisers loose on me with emails I don’t want, Facebook clutters my page with trending articles I do not want, and then there are the telemarketers who harass me endlessly. I have done state and national No Call lists. I have turned the Bank Card Services people in to the Attorney General. I have pushed 9 to be taken off the list; I have pushed 2 to talk to a live person and asked nicely to be removed only to be rudely hung up on. If we are going to squabble in this country over our right to privacy, could someone mention to these people MY right to sleep when sick, to have a meal, to watch a movie without being interrupted by their recorded harassment? Oh, and what about my right to be free from Anonymous?
Yes, it is official. I am old and crabby.