Maybe it’s the fact that I’m busy chasing around my 18-month-old son most of the time, I have another baby on the way and a sciatica-ravaged wife who needs more help around the house than ever.
Maybe it’s the bad back that required a month of physical therapy and still needs a lot of stretching all week just so I can avoid constant discomfort.
Maybe it’s the plantar fasciitis that always seems to flare up and makes me move painfully slow.
The combination of all these things usually leaves me running on empty before 8 p.m. on most nights which makes me think I have more in common with senior citizens in nursing homes than with most people my own age.
How long before I’m wearing Depend and eating soft foods with my shiny new dentures? For the moment I still have my real teeth right but at this pace I’ll be stocking up on Poligrip in no time.
So what are some of the things that have been popping up recently to make me feel like I’m rolling downhill toward the nursing home at breakneck speed?
* Getting winded after running around the house with my son for several minutes makes me feel like a senile invalid when I realize that I literally used to be able to run around and ride my bike all day when I was a kid.
* When I was in my 20s I’d go out for a walk or jog with my dog but now that I’m in my mid-30s I just want to veg out on my couch with my cat. There’s something sad and lazy about that.
* My wife and I went out for a nice late dinner last week for our anniversary and by the time we got home at close to 11 p.m. I was ready to hit the sack. In my 20s the night was just getting started at 11. How long before I’m having a warm glass of milk before going to bed at 8:30?
* I’ve become that old guy in the neighborhood chasing kids off his property. OK, it only happened once and I was really nice about it but the bottom line is it happened and it seems like the kind of thing only an old coot does.
* When I was in my 20s I drove like a madman (some people would say I still do) but now I get annoyed when I see someone driving a little too fast or recklessly. That has to be a sign that I’m getting old.
* Every now and then when I see a photo of myself from around the time I was in college I get the feeling that I currently look like I ate that kid, washed him down with a case of beer and had a couple of birthday cakes for dessert. I’ve become a middle-aged fat guy and I’m moving a little slower and looking a little older every day.
I still listen to cassette tapes.
* Want more? I still own a Battle of the Bay and Dream Team T-shirt. I’d be kind of amused if I had a chance to get a hold of an old Members Only jacket and I’m actually a little surprised that I don’t have one buried in my closet. I still own Garbage Pail Kids cards … and it’s not by accident either. I made it a point to keep them when I was clearing out space for two nurseries over the past two years. I’m getting older in a hurry but I’m not really getting any more mature than I was when I was in my teens.
Contemplating the fact that smart phones probably have more computing power than the PC I grew up with makes me feel like a thawed out ice man living in modern times. Remembering when pagers, bulky cell phones and text-based web browsing and bulletin boards were big makes me feel like a dinosaur too.
* The fact that a young co-worker says she can’t remember the 49ers ever being good reminds me how long they’ve been crappy and makes me feel like an insane old person rambling on and on about the glory days.
* Watching old episodes of Star Trek and realizing that my crappy flip cell phone is a lot like Captain Kirk’s communicator (and thinking that’s kind of awesome) makes me feel like an old codger amazed by newfangled tech.
* A part of me cringes at the idea of my first back-to-school night or my first team meeting for whatever sport my kids decide to try first. I have a sinking feeling that I’m going be the oldest looking dude in the room, surrounded by a bunch of spry 20-something parents wondering why it appears that my child’s grandfather showed up instead of his dad.
* Realizing that I’ve been a lust-filled fan of Alyssa Milano for more than two decades makes me feel like an ancient pervert.
Watching “Men of a Certain Age” and being mildly entertained is a sure-fire sign that I’m slowing down. It’s actually a little depressing that I have more in common with Andre Braugher’s character than with anyone else on the show. Dull family guy? Check. Out of shape? Check. Sleep apnea. Check.
I’m going to go cry into a warm glass of milk now and take a nap because I’m suddenly feeling very sad and really sleepy.
Old people take naps in the middle of the day don’t they?