Scissors in the Freezer
They say that athletes and mathematicians peak in their 20s. I suspect that is the case for most people as well, which given our ever expanding life spans is likely a tremendous problem.
With pitchers, I believe the phrase is losing your fastball. As my 20s have passed and my 30s are well underway, I realized that I am also losing my fastball. A decade ago, I never felt continual aches and pains. I was never concerned about muscles locking up in my arm, as happened a few weeks ago or going to the doctor to make sure I hadn't broken my wrist after the CLR fell on it.
Even worse than the physical pain of age, I am starting to feel the mental pain of age. One example was today. Yesterday, I decided to enjoy some of the Otter Pops that I purchased last year. Given their status as a semi-food item requiring extreme refrigeration, there was no real risk of damage from eating a year-old Otter Pop. So, I enjoyed my Louie-Bloo Raspberry and Sir Issac Lime, using the scissors to remove the top from the ice pops.
Today, while doing my darnedest to watch all 15 episodes of Arrested Development in a single day, I decided I would also like some additional ice pops. So, I went to the drawer where I keep the scissors. Inside the drawer, there were no black handled scissors, nicest and newest of the scissors which I own, but the old, red-handled scissors, which had seen better years. Opening the freezer, old, red-handled scissors in hand, I pulled out the rack of Otter Pops. Underneath the multicolored frozen sugar water were the black handled scissors, nigh frozen. Embarrassed by the mental gaffe, I took the scissors out, managed to use the Otter Pops and returned them to the drawer.
I worry that as I age further, I will continue to find odd items in places I never expect to and greatly fear the slow, gradual mental decay, leaving me unable to handle even the smallest of tasks as I live a long, unfulfiling life.
With pitchers, I believe the phrase is losing your fastball. As my 20s have passed and my 30s are well underway, I realized that I am also losing my fastball. A decade ago, I never felt continual aches and pains. I was never concerned about muscles locking up in my arm, as happened a few weeks ago or going to the doctor to make sure I hadn't broken my wrist after the CLR fell on it.
Even worse than the physical pain of age, I am starting to feel the mental pain of age. One example was today. Yesterday, I decided to enjoy some of the Otter Pops that I purchased last year. Given their status as a semi-food item requiring extreme refrigeration, there was no real risk of damage from eating a year-old Otter Pop. So, I enjoyed my Louie-Bloo Raspberry and Sir Issac Lime, using the scissors to remove the top from the ice pops.
Today, while doing my darnedest to watch all 15 episodes of Arrested Development in a single day, I decided I would also like some additional ice pops. So, I went to the drawer where I keep the scissors. Inside the drawer, there were no black handled scissors, nicest and newest of the scissors which I own, but the old, red-handled scissors, which had seen better years. Opening the freezer, old, red-handled scissors in hand, I pulled out the rack of Otter Pops. Underneath the multicolored frozen sugar water were the black handled scissors, nigh frozen. Embarrassed by the mental gaffe, I took the scissors out, managed to use the Otter Pops and returned them to the drawer.
I worry that as I age further, I will continue to find odd items in places I never expect to and greatly fear the slow, gradual mental decay, leaving me unable to handle even the smallest of tasks as I live a long, unfulfiling life.