I cannot stop listening to this song. Seriously, it’s a problem.
Also, ALSO- did I ever tell you, world at large, that at some point in the last few years, I’ve been put on some kind of mailing list for the- well, let’s just say very-advanced-aged? Because I have. Not a day goes by where I don’t get literature in my mail about those scooter-wheelchair things, AARP, Medicare, nursing homes, financial planning seminars for people who have already blown their retirement etc. I usually don’t care, it’s USUALLY funny that I’m tricked into opening something that reads, “Ms. Cutrone, turning 85 is an important milestone…” In fact, I was more than ready to snag that free meal at Maggiano’s, promised if I sat through yet another “So You’ve Spent Your Retirement Fund Already” seminar. I mean, why not?
But THIS is the last straw. Imagine coming home, opening up a nice little embossed card- expecting a Thank you note perhaps, a little invitation. And instead- “Ms. Cutrone, have you ever [respectfully, thoughtfully, oh-so-carefully-worded] considered cremation?”
The mail apparently thinks my age has advanced to the point where I need to start considering where to put my remains. While I’m not there yet, I’m certainly reconsidering what to do with my mail.
I miss the days where I could just imagine myself flying around on one of those scooters.
[NOTE: In the interest of full disclosure, I should admit that I MAYBE took advantage of this situation a few weeks ago and subscribed to Time, who offered me a $5 subscription for the whole year considering my status as a senior citizen- and the fact that apparently they believed I wouldn’t live to see the end of the year anyway. Come on- $5 for a weekly magazine! That’s gold, Jerry. GOLD!]