Just Another Bad Idea - Clean A Closet

I have found that one of the best perks of being retired, is that most days you have the freedom to choose what to do that day.  I do have those regular days when I volunteer, routine club meetings, and occasional appointments.  But it still feels like a luxury to wake up in the morning (late) and realize that I can pick and choose what to do with that day.

There are a few things so routine that they are attended to without thought:  the morning paper, the five puzzles in said paper, the shower and dressing, the muffin and coffee.  But by lunch time and Price Is Right I must decide what comes next.  I still feel morally obligated to accomplish at least one productive task each day.  I don't know why, but I have allowed myself to define "productive"  in very loose terms.

Here are some "productive" accomplishments according to my very broad definition:  call a friend, mail a greeting card, do my nails (finger nails - I can't reach my toes), write a blog entry  ( so productive obligations have been met today), delete old E mail messages, hand sew trimmings on a love bear, etc. etc. etc.
I don't count reading a novel or watching favorite TV shows because those are my guilty pleasures.  I don't count doing the daily load of washing.  Ever since my teaching days, throwing that load of washing in every evening is as routine as brushing my teeth.

When I taught school and had children at home, I always walked through the house every evening and picked up laundry in each room and put a load of clothes in the washer.  By doing this I tried to avoid having the kids do their own "load" of wash.  That is because a kid considers one pair of jeans that they want to wear tomorrow a whole load of wash.  Now I do that load because Don only keeps two outfits per season in his closet.  That's the way he likes it.  It bothers him to have more clothes that he needs!  As a woman, I just don't understand.  But, anyway, my daily load of washing, keeps him in a clean outfit every day.

So, you can see that Don requires very little closet space, what with his two outfits that he will dispose of at the end of each season, when he gets next season's two outfits.  And we have four lovely walk-in closets in our house.  One is a real nightmare where I keep my craft "stuff."  One is Don's closet.  And can you guess what is in the other two?  Right!  All of my clothes and shoes. Yes, I am embarrassed to say that both these closets are full to the brim.

Well, back to my one productive act per day.  A couple of week-ends ago, I desperately needed a very productive activity.  I had seen as much golf and football on TV as I could stand.  So I lost my head and decided to clean out one of my closets!  I removed all the clothes, sorted and put all slacks, blouses, sweaters, and jackets into different stacks.  I had a throw-away bag for the really awful, a Goodwill bag for the still useful.  I sorted shoes, I straightened shelves, I made all the handbags stand at attention, my gosh, I even mopped the floor!  I mopped the floor right before I collapsed from exhaustion!  And then I had to return all the garments back into the closet.

Let me tell you.......it took me the rest of the week to recover.  But the closet looks great.

Now, I only have three more closets to go.  I'm sorry, kids, but you may just have to take care of those after I'm gone.

Another Dumb Thing Old Folks Do - Disrespect Doctors' Appointments

Yes, as the title indicates, we should never disrespect our doctors' appointments.  I mean DON'T  EVEN THINK ABOUT SHOWING ANY DISRESPECT!

Case in point:  Last week we were driving to Indianapolis very early on Thursday morning to keep my routine six month appointment with my eye doctor, the glaucoma specialist.  The morning was very foggy, and the traffic was early-morning- awful.  I said, "One of these days we will be too old to keep traveling to Indy to see a doctor."
And Don said, "  You are getting along pretty well.  Maybe you could ask him if we could just come once a year."
Now, perhaps, you will remember that a few years ago my very good eye doctor removed my cataracts, and at the same time constructed ducts in each eye that drained the eyes and keep the pressure down to single digit readings without the use of eyedrops.  This will hopefully keep the glaucoma from getting worse.
Well, my appointment was for 9:30, and we arrived about 9:10.  The receptionist apologized and said that doctor was running about an hour behind.  Indeed he was.  I saw the doctor at about 11:00.  So Don and I were all set to ask to be put on a year rotation.
Huh!  The doctor discovered that I had another small leak in the roof of my bleb in the left eye.  (I bet you don't have too many friends or relatives who have ever suffered that affliction!]  Well, it sounds bad, but it is just treated with a daily dose of antibiotic eye ointment.
BUT, now I have to return to the doctor in six weeks, not a year, but in six weeks.  And this will  probably continue until the eye heals.
So, don't even think about changing those appointments.
You would think that we would learn our lesson.  But on Tuesday of this week, we took sister-in-law, Janie, out to supper.  She had been to the orthopedic hospital that day for the one year appointment following her hip surgery.  She said that her doctor had dismissed her.
Don said, "He dismissed you?  Phyllis, don't you have an appointment with your hip doctor in February for you two year anniversary of your hip surgery?"
"Yes, I think I do."
"Well, do you think that is really necessary?  Maybe you can cancel that."
Oh, Don.  those words should have never left your mouth.  I got up on Wednesday morning and I could barely walk because my hip hurt so much.  And it has continued hurting today.  The doctor gods are punishing me for disrespectful thoughts.
Don was checking over all our insurance papers this evening.  When he looked at the dental insurance, he said, "That cleaning and exam every is months is mostly covered, but doesn't it seem a little silly to go so often at our age.  Maybe we could change that to once a year."
No, No, No, Don, don't utter those words aloud!
So, tomorrow I am fully expecting some fillings to fall out!

Number One of a New Series - Dumb Things that Old People Do

Well, I've been gone awhile, haven't I?  Once I finished my childhood memories doll house, I just couldn't get inspired about anything to write.  I am enjoying the finished doll house.  And the Art Club here in Anderson was kind enough to invite me to bring it to their meeting and be their program for the month.
I was nervous, but it was a very lovely group of ladies, and they met in the most beautiful home, and I did enjoy the day.  However, poor Don had to "tote the barge and lift the bale."  In other words, he had to
pick up the darn thing and find a way to get it into the car, deliver it and me, and then pick us up.  I solemnly promised to never do that again.

So, I have been thinking about a theme for my next bits of writing.  And, honestly, the only thoughts that come to my head are "all the dumb things that old people do."  The "old people" mentioned here being Don and I.  Believe me, I have a wealth of information to share.

The strangest part of reaching this age is that the brain has these little blank spots that simply pop up at the most inconvenient times during a conversation.  I hate to say it, but Don has suffered from this for years.  The kids and I always thought it was done to amuse us.  But, now I'm thinking that it is definitely just old age.

For instance, he will ask me, "Did you turn off that furnace?"  Now, it is summer and we all know that the furnace isn't on.  But I know how to translate.  He is asking me if I unplugged the hair dryer or the curling iron.

When he gets home from the casino after his morning visit there.  He always sits down while I'm trying to read the morning paper, and tells me about every machine he played, every spin, every bonus, and all the people he talked to.  (I really don't mind; it is rather endearing.)  Also it doesn't require heavy-duty attention on my part.  But the interesting thing about the stories is that Don never calls any slot machine by its real name.  For instance, when he tells me that he played Dolphin Club, I understand that he means a slot machine called Turtle Bay (one of my favorites.)  When he says that he has played Dollar General, I know that he means American Original.  This morning he told me that he played Sex is a Pity.  Well, it is, but he meant a machine called Sex in the City.  I did have to laugh at that one.

Then, there are our neighbors.  He spoke to one gentleman and called him Merlin.  Merlin is the name of the neighbor's dog.  The gentleman's name is Beryl.  So for months now Don has been calling him Berlyn.  I am tired of correcting him, so when he calls another neighbor Dolly, I have quit telling him every time that her name is Dixie.  Today he asked me, "Did you know that our neighbor's name is really Dixie?  I called her to tell her that I would mow her yard.  When I asked for Dolly they didn't know who I was talking about."
Soooo. I guess I'll just keep on correcting him.

I, on the other hand, am not so creative when my mind goes blank.  Darn it!  I have to give Don credit.  It is quite scary that I can almost always translate what he means.  But when I have those same frequent lapses in memory, I simply have to stop talking, and I just stare blankly, not finishing the sentence.

You know, it goes something like this, "Did you see that singer on TV, you know, uh, ________________?
Or, "Don, I'm trying to fix this towel holder, I need your, uh, ________________.  Now,  I may think of it in 5 minutes, an hour, three days, or in  a month.  Who knows.  But it really is a conversation stopper.  No laughs, either.  I have to give Don credit for his creativity and his entertainment value.  This last week I saw a fictitious name on a mock-up credit card on a TV commercial.  It was so close to a former student's name, and Don and I had been trying to think of her name for weeks.  Right then it flashed into my poor little empty- spaces head.

Don wakes in the middle of the night, turns on his TV, then sees something or somebody whose name won't come to mind.  He will get up, turn on the computer, and do a long search, because the question is driving him crazy.

So, there you have it.  Probably the number one dumb thing that old people do.  When I met with my ladies club, you know my good friends who have met for 40 years.  We had this very conversation the other day.
The totally agreed.So said my best friend, uh, uh, uh _________________________.  I'll have to get back with on that.