Ruminations on Getting Old: First Edition

For the record, I absolutely hate it when people younger than me complain about getting old. Hate it. I want to punch them in their fat, youthful little faces. So, I'm trying to construct this post as the first in a series where I merely examine the wonderful side effects of adding a few more rings to the trunk. Here are a few of the things I've noticed in the last year or so that stick out as being somewhat grandfatherly.

1. I've become clumsy as fuck - Even though I was never particularly athletic, I always had pretty damn good balance and coordination for the most part. I rarely, if ever, fell, knocked my head on anything, stubbed my toe, hit myself in the nuts, etc. THIS HAS CHANGED. I now cannot properly grab the toothpaste out of the medicine cabinet without dropping it on the floor, in the toilet, or in the trash can. I've fallen out of my bed twice in the last year, face first. Yesterday, I was cleaning the kitchen counter and had a canister of clean-up wipes in my right hand. I lost control of the canister, and it was propelled into the air and landed wipe-side down into a pot I was soaking in the sink.
2. I forget pretty much everything - I wasn't the world's best student, but hell, I could remember if I had told you that awesome story about how the girl in the bar actually looked in my direction no problem. Not anymore. In fact, it's very likely I can't remember your name or whether we're related or not. Last week I looked for my other sock for a solid minute before realizing it was already on my foot.
3. I've become infuriatingly habitual - Changes or alterations to the normal order of things tend to make me very uncomfortable. No coffee on Saturday morning? FUCK YOU. Dinner isn't served by 6pm? GO TO HELL. I have to run an errand before going to the gym after work? UNBELIEVABLE. Honestly, I can usually predict each and every day now. Actually, I greatly prefer this.
   

More to come...