November's Man Blog

Happy November. It is hard to believe this year is almost over, and Christmas is coming soon; Thanksgiving might as well be leftovers at this point. Truth be told, it is hard to believe we are almost 26 years away from the 90s being over. October is the month both my better half and I get another year older. Up until this year, I do not believe I ever considered myself older than my mid-twenties. The staying out and carrying on is over. 8:30 is bedtime. My phone has an alarm set at 8:22. That gives me exactly 8 minutes to brush my teeth, wash my face, and go to bed. At least in my heart, I felt like I was still somewhat immature and fun. Then it happened.

I can recall the exact moment mid-age hit me like an old person behind the wheel in a parking lot. We were at a birthday party for one of Tina's high school friends' son. Said friend from high school started a deep conversation with Tina about how much she was looking forward to getting her shoulder done and the knee surgery after that. These upcoming procedures were not due to an exciting event or even something epic like climbing mountains. These tweaks were because we have entered the wearing-out age group. We no longer have friends who have surgeries because they did something stupid but funny. We have started the journey, and our bodies have been on the road for more miles than they were intended to be.  

Half of the vocabulary kids use today is just gibberish that didn't exist two years ago. When someone is on TV, I have to ask Jordan if they are famous. My favorite response is that they are renowned for their large following. We talk in circles for five minutes, and I am still confused about how someone is well-known just for being famous. There is nothing better today than to become viral. There was a time when the last thing you wanted associated with your name was a virus.

Looking back over the years, I think of all the warning signs the universe has given me that this day was coming. I don't recall the exact moment for any of them. There was a day that I realized a fart was a gamble and the house always wins. I really miss the original Afrin. Kids today will never know what it is like to have your nose opened up in a matter of nanoseconds. Half the battle of beating a cold was over before you knew it started. The days of a week before Christmas seeming like years have turned into the days of July seeming like a good time to plan because it'll be here before you know it. I miss the days of not butt muting the TV because I didn't put the remote back on the stand next to me. Why don't I put the remote back? Because every damn TV show has the music too loud and the talking too low. It is a constant up-and-down roller coaster of volume settings before we crank it up and forget about it.   I don't put the remote back because I remember actually having a scheduled commercial break, and I could place the remote where it belongs when I get a glass of water during the break. I miss never planning a bathroom break before any type of travel. Every time we leave, one or both of us says, We better pee before we leave.

I have hit the point where I look forward to leftovers in the fridge. When I was young, I noticed the difference between reheated leftovers and the original meal. Middle-aged taste buds are either weakened and don't notice, or the fact that we will have created no dishes and didn't have to cook outweighs the taste enough that it is overlooked. I have won at life when I perfectly divide the loads of towels into two equal loads. I messed up when one load is smaller than the other. The slope you are on when you start celebrating laundry victories is rather slippery.

For several years, I haven't driven after dark very much. It isn't that I am unable or afraid to. I prefer not to, so I don't. Even though I am now convinced that turning the radio down while driving after dark does make it easier to see, what doesn't make it easier to see is the new headlights that are brighter than the sun coming at me, or an overcompensating, jacked-up pick-up behind me that might as well rub bumpers with me, also lighting the way with halogen goodness—fun fact about middle-aged folks that really aren't in any hurry: he closer you get to their backend, the slower they go. I might be late for wherever I am supposed to be, but it isn't the first time, and it won't be the last. The more critical part of the story is that the tailgater is way later than they were going to be, and I did my part to make it so.

The schedule of adulthood is elevated at the halfway point in life. Monday is no longer just a Monday. It is Garbage Day Eve! We have to remember to take the garbage out for pick up on Tuesday morning, the weekly official holiday. Failure to remember the weekly holiday feels like a grown-up catastrophe. The seasons are no longer what they were. It is now time to change the batteries in the smoke alarm. Followed by changing the filters on the heater and AC solstice. The lack of water pressure reminds us to pay tribute to Poseidon through water filters.

When outlaws and hobos on TV would heat their can of beans over an open campfire, when I was young, I thought, I'd rather not eat beans. Now it is brilliant, much like the advantage of eating leftovers and avoiding more dishes. But now I can't stop myself from thinking, isn't there a plastic liner in tin cans now? Do they eat the plastic? If I eat plastic, the bacteria that eat microplastics start spreading. Are they going to eat through me to get to the plastic?

As unavoidable as it is, and as far as anyone knows, there is only one way to avoid it; we are all getting older a bit every day, even though some days seem to hit a little harder than others. It goes better when you are going through it with someone who also couldn't wait to get in the car and blurt out, "My friends are getting joint replacements —we are getting old!" Until next month, stay safe and wash on.