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An Average Day In The Life Of An Old Guy

I wake up at 5:21 AM. It’s completely necessary that I rise while half the city of Miami is just leaving the club because today I have to buy a new belt and deal with the Verizon guy, so my schedule is chock-full. My seven-minute getting out of bed routine is strenuous, but I fought a war for this country, so you’re damn sure I can get out of bed. I walk into my kitchen to see four quarter-full wine glasses dispersed on my counter. Last night was a feature film. The neighbors from down the street came over and brought their granddaughter, who tried showing me this tic-tac of a dolphin singing along to hoodlum music…but I didn’t understand it much. After dinner, we turned on Tucker, who my wife describes as “a riot,” until he told us that Snow White is now a man. This news was so displeasing to me that I needed to excuse myself and head to the bathroom, where I peed in three-second increments and debated requesting that my grandchildren be pulled from college. My doctor recommends that I excuse myself to take some deep breaths whenever the news stresses me out too much. After I collected myself, I walked back into my television room to find my neighbor’s granddaughter not only sitting in my chair, but also messing around on my clicker. 

She then spent the next twenty minutes showing us videos of Penguins eating ice cream, and my neighbors could tell that my blood was boiling, so they decided it would be a good time to depart. Between the cabernet and Snow White being a man, I was angry enough to go to bed. My wife always stays up an hour later than me for Sean Hannity. I’m not a Hannity guy myself, but he gives my wife hot flashes, and she very much enjoys that. Just another day in paradise. 

I’ve already cleaned the kitchen by seven in the morning and gone for a bike ride. My wife has a doctor’s appointment at 9:30 because she tweaked her ankle playing pickleball last week, and I’ll use the hour in between to get a new belt. I’m thinking about spicing it up and getting a belt with a lobster on it, but we’ll see if that’s a move I can pull off when the time comes. When my wife finally wakes up, we make oatmeal and talk shit about our neighbor’s granddaughter. “Sixteen years old, and she already has a nose piercing,” my wife says in disgust. I sigh and agree. “What the hell is going on in this country?” When the time finally comes, I drop my wife off and head to get myself my new belt. I’ve been retired in Florida for eleven years now, and each day is better than the last. As I peruse through the belt section of the store, I find the perfect piece to add to my repertoire. A baby blue leather-backed belt with fishes on it- this is a good buy because in my sweet oasis of a state, people like three things: fishing, loud colors, and meth. When I finally get to the register, the man behind the counter says, “just tap.” Confused, I hand him my credit card and say, why the hell isn’t it swiping. 

 Fuck I miss Rush Limbaugh. 

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