The curmudgeon was out recently dining with old friends. Now the cynical among you might wonder - were they old in the sense that they had been friends for a long time (something a curmudgeon wouldn't like to acknowledge unless they too were curmudgeons) or were they, like yours truly, simply old age-wise. In this case they were both, but it was the latter attribute that bears on today's peeve.
All we talked about were our medical "complaints"! This is a scary sign of REALLY being old. "My lumbago is acting up", "where do bunions come from anyhow?", "these are liver spots aren't they?", the scares just kept coming. And try to change the subject while this frenzy is going on. Forget it - the conversation eerily returns to things like "that reminds me - I get this weird pain at 2 in the morning", and "are your knees bothering you too?" Worst of all are the free medical diagnoses - "you probably have what I had last year - try an herbal tea compress just before bedtime" - "I would try this new drug - worked for me."
And then there are the pill count comparisons: "yeah, I'm up to 3 pills every day," "that's nothing - I take 7." And the inevitable "wow, we all take Lipitor don't we?"
To my great relief, the food arrives.
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