Driving Miss Kimmy

I had dinner with my daughter last night. On the way back to her apartment, we encountered a bunch of construction and detours. Molly guided me back to her place using side streets that I’m unfamiliar with. For some reason, being out of my comfort zone sends me into near panic. Rationally, I know I’m not going to drive off the edge of the world, or burst into flames. It sure feels like Impending Doom is right around the corner, though. It didn’t make any difference that Molly was with me. The apprehension was overwhelming. When I get like that, it shakes me to my core. I feel tingly down to my tippy toes, and not in a fun way. I seriously fear that I am turning into an old person... totally inflexible and afraid. I wonder if each generation has its own old age standards. What might be typical for my parent’s generation, hopefully isn’t the same for mine. At some point in the future, will I start having my hair “done” once a week at the beauty salon? A tight little perm with a ton of hairspray to make it last a week? Just shoot me now. When will I decide to turn in my beloved Mini Cooper for a giant boat of a Cadillac? Will Rick and I shrink to where all you can see above the steering wheel are knuckles? Nobody enjoys getting old. I’ve been told by more than one elderly person that it sucks. Not much you can do about it, except die. I really, really don’t want to be pushing a walker with tennis balls shoved on the legs anytime soon. I’m not ready to give up jeans for polyester pants. Don’t get me started on catheters and adult diapers. That couple on the Swiffer TV commercial, Morty and Lee Kaufmann, give me hope. They are adorable and seem pretty happy with their life. I know... it’s TV. Still, they provide a glimmer of an existence that might not be too horrendous. I’ve always thought being a planner was just how I control chaos in my life. Now I wonder if it’s just the old fart in me trying to get out. Gotta go... must be some kids on my lawn that need yelling at.