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silly new things you've noticed yourself doing or saying as you get older
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| OrangestO |
I forget to zip up after pissing 95% of the time.
It usually takes a few minutes to remember or sometimes a few hours to notice.
I can't recall ever having this problem. |
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| Lira |
Yesterday was already a mess of sneezes and sighs, the kind where your body betrays you, offering aches instead of answers. 41 year old me collapsed into bed with all the ceremony of a felled tree, and the darkness wrapped itself around me. Not soothing, but suffocating. Sleep came like a graceless thief, tripping over my congestion, stealing only half the night.
I was coughing.
A guttural, rattling cough that seemed to rise from somewhere deep and ancient, as though my lungs were trying to expel the weight of the world. My wife, half angel, half sleep-deprived soldier, placed a cough drop in my hand. It was one of those industrial-strength, throat-numbing marvels that promises relief in exchange for a flavour that tastes like desperation.
Somewhere between the fog of dreams and the sharp tang of menthol, I reached for another. My hand moved on autopilot, like a sleepwalker rummaging for solace, and I grabbed one — larger, softer, with odd, flabby edges. Too tired to question the geometry of my salvation, I let it settle on my tongue. It wasn’t sweet, wasn’t bitter, wasn’t anything. Just... there. And that was enough. I chewed the edges experimentally, deciding it was a conglomerate of cough drops fused together by some act of cosmic stickiness. I was grateful, in a hazy, delirious way, that it wasn’t a beetle. Or worse, alive.
Morning came like a revelation and a betrayal when I reached for the thing inside my mouth. And there it was: the truth. Not a cough drop, but an earbud. The flabby edge I had chewed with unconscious diligence was silicone, not sugar. Its sleek technology rendered mute by my misplaced hunger for relief.
I stared at it, the absurdity of the situation hitting me like the punchline to a joke I didn’t know I was telling. I had spent the night, in all my fevered vulnerability, suckling on technology. And now, it was dead—sacrificed to the altar of my unconsciousness. Never did anything remotely similar when I was younger.
For the record, it no longer works. |
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| planetaryplayer |
| I notice I grow more hair in my nose and less on my head |
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| Silky Johnson |
| quote: | Originally posted by Lira
Yesterday was already a mess of sneezes and sighs, the kind where your body betrays you, offering aches instead of answers. 41 year old me collapsed into bed with all the ceremony of a felled tree, and the darkness wrapped itself around me. Not soothing, but suffocating. Sleep came like a graceless thief, tripping over my congestion, stealing only half the night.
I was coughing.
A guttural, rattling cough that seemed to rise from somewhere deep and ancient, as though my lungs were trying to expel the weight of the world. My wife, half angel, half sleep-deprived soldier, placed a cough drop in my hand. It was one of those industrial-strength, throat-numbing marvels that promises relief in exchange for a flavour that tastes like desperation.
Somewhere between the fog of dreams and the sharp tang of menthol, I reached for another. My hand moved on autopilot, like a sleepwalker rummaging for solace, and I grabbed one — larger, softer, with odd, flabby edges. Too tired to question the geometry of my salvation, I let it settle on my tongue. It wasn’t sweet, wasn’t bitter, wasn’t anything. Just... there. And that was enough. I chewed the edges experimentally, deciding it was a conglomerate of cough drops fused together by some act of cosmic stickiness. I was grateful, in a hazy, delirious way, that it wasn’t a beetle. Or worse, alive.
Morning came like a revelation and a betrayal when I reached for the thing inside my mouth. And there it was: the truth. Not a cough drop, but an earbud. The flabby edge I had chewed with unconscious diligence was silicone, not sugar. Its sleek technology rendered mute by my misplaced hunger for relief.
I stared at it, the absurdity of the situation hitting me like the punchline to a joke I didn’t know I was telling. I had spent the night, in all my fevered vulnerability, suckling on technology. And now, it was dead—sacrificed to the altar of my unconsciousness. Never did anything remotely similar when I was younger.
For the record, it no longer works. |
LOL, this is amazing. :stongue:
Not quite the response you're asking for, but I need reading glasses. Realized it just after my 44th birthday. If it wasn't for doing the NYT puzzles every morning I don't think I'd have noticed. The full eye health exam is so cool! Lots of really neat equipment. |
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| 72hrpartyanimal |
| quote: | Originally posted by Silky Johnson
Not quite the response you're asking for, but I need reading glasses. Realized it just after my 44th birthday. If it wasn't for doing the NYT puzzles every morning I don't think I'd have noticed. The full eye health exam is so cool! Lots of really neat equipment. |
Same! I've had great vision my whole life and now all of the sudden, things are blurry. I'm noticing I read things better when it's further from my face. I'm turning into my parents! |
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| 72hrpartyanimal |
| quote: | Originally posted by Lira
Yesterday was already a mess of sneezes and sighs, the kind where your body betrays you, offering aches instead of answers. 41 year old me collapsed into bed with all the ceremony of a felled tree, and the darkness wrapped itself around me. Not soothing, but suffocating. Sleep came like a graceless thief, tripping over my congestion, stealing only half the night.
I was coughing.
A guttural, rattling cough that seemed to rise from somewhere deep and ancient, as though my lungs were trying to expel the weight of the world. My wife, half angel, half sleep-deprived soldier, placed a cough drop in my hand. It was one of those industrial-strength, throat-numbing marvels that promises relief in exchange for a flavour that tastes like desperation.
Somewhere between the fog of dreams and the sharp tang of menthol, I reached for another. My hand moved on autopilot, like a sleepwalker rummaging for solace, and I grabbed one — larger, softer, with odd, flabby edges. Too tired to question the geometry of my salvation, I let it settle on my tongue. It wasn’t sweet, wasn’t bitter, wasn’t anything. Just... there. And that was enough. I chewed the edges experimentally, deciding it was a conglomerate of cough drops fused together by some act of cosmic stickiness. I was grateful, in a hazy, delirious way, that it wasn’t a beetle. Or worse, alive.
Morning came like a revelation and a betrayal when I reached for the thing inside my mouth. And there it was: the truth. Not a cough drop, but an earbud. The flabby edge I had chewed with unconscious diligence was silicone, not sugar. Its sleek technology rendered mute by my misplaced hunger for relief.
I stared at it, the absurdity of the situation hitting me like the punchline to a joke I didn’t know I was telling. I had spent the night, in all my fevered vulnerability, suckling on technology. And now, it was dead—sacrificed to the altar of my unconsciousness. Never did anything remotely similar when I was younger.
For the record, it no longer works. |
agreed with Camshaft in the other thread. You do have great writing! |
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| Lira |
| Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. I just wanted to give my old reliable the eulogy it deserves, as the poor earbud went into its last good night the way it lived: all in and full of drops, albeit of a different kind this time :toothless |
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| st3nc |
i wake up earlier, i used to sleep past noon any chance i got in my 20s, now i cant sleep past 10am. it started in my 30s and after having a kid it got earlier.
i cant drink as much as i get older obv. i get bloated/full much more quickly than i can get drunk, esp if ive eaten anything. drinking on an empty stomach works but i have to be precise with my food/alcohol intake afterward.
as far as silly things, i work an office job and everyday i see memes about the things i do and say. we are all living lives already lived. i enjoy regular conversation more as i get older, i still hate strangers unlike my parents. eating tums for heartburn :/ |
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| OrangestO |
| quote: | Originally posted by st3nc
i wake up earlier, i used to sleep past noon any chance i got in my 20s, now i cant sleep past 10am. it started in my 30s and after having a kid it got earlier. |
Waking up at 10 after having a kid?! :wtf:
Either you're divorced or your wife takes care of the kid in the morning after you've worked the night shift, right? :p
I could never sleep that late even before having one; waking up at 7 or later is a luxury, even after a night of debauchery. |
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| Silky Johnson |
| Waking up later than 7/8 is a huge waste of one of the best parts of the day. Kids or no kids. |
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| SYSTEM-J |
| I'm not a morning person in the slightest, but endless years of waking up for work have bent and deformed my sleeping pattern to the point I can never sleep in past 8 on weekends even if I try. If I want to repay the sleep debt these days it has to be an afternoon nap. I'm at my most productive by far late at night though. Sometimes I'll sack work off early and then log back onto the laptop at 9 or 10pm and get a couple of hours solid work done late at night. I probably look like an abject loser sending emails at that hour. |
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