The Weakly Week

Certain things happen when you become a senior citizen. The changes are subtle, but scary nonetheless, and I am compelled to warn you about them. Although there are books that teach you to enjoy your golden years, they don't tell you how to push your way to the front of the line at the bank, or how to slowly waddle down a hallway, alternately veering to each side so no one can pass you.
The golden years are stressful. Just yesterday my heart skipped several beats, and I don't have any beats to spare, when I heard a truck coming down the street. It sounded like our garbage truck and the garbage wasn't at the curb! In a second I was awash with adrenolin. (Yes, I still have that.) I raced to the front door and saw that it wasn't the garbage truck after all, but merely a passing furniture truck. Then I realized that it was Tuesday, Grocery Day, not Wednesday, Garbage Day.

A typical senior calendar. Garbage day may vary by location.

Seniors find that there is plenty to keep us busy without doing anything extra. Just getting out of bed is job one. We devote much of our time to staying alive, which means taking medicine, taking walks, eating, and of course, resting, but we hope not in peace. Each day we must feed the dog, bring in the mail and the paper, monitor the weather, and plan our TV schedule for the evening. You add an extra responsibility in there, like taking out the garbage, and it gets chaotic. So we assign one day to each of our most important chores. That is why the mere sound of a large truck on a Tuesday can give us an anxiety attack. And, for the record, today IS Garbage Day.