Complaining is a social skill


I wrote this in 2006. 

Living beyond youth comes with a whole set of dangers they never tell you about in school.  At fifty I have osteoporosis and osteo-arthritis.  My hands are gnarled and  spotted.  My teeth are yellow from too much coffee and my nose runs when I eat.  My hair regularly falls out in clumps.  When I get excited I fart uncontrollably and occasionally wet my pants.  My eyesight is such that I have to wear two different pairs of glasses, one for distance and one for reading but none for talking to people or watching television.  My memory is such that I have several pairs of glasses strewn all over my house, never being able to remember where I put them.  I can not hear sounds at either end of the spectrum and have difficulty understanding accents.  I can no longer eat spicy food regularly. 

My daily routine consists mainly of making trips to doctors, therapists, specialty health food stores and complaining to strangers on the bus about all of the above.  People generally say I am too young to be so old.  I always agree with them. 

 My favourite topic is the weather which always sucks in Canada.  As most people in Toronto are from somewhere where the weather is much nicer we always agree on this too. 

Complaining is a social skill.  It requires a subject that is not threatening and generally unimportant.  That way everyone can join.  I’m not very good at it.  I’m learning though.  So far I stick to hanging out with old people and those who are dieing.  They aren’t very good at complaining either, despite the fact that they do so much of it.  I guess they need the practice. Me too.  

I would like to say that I feel much better now thanks to diet and excercise and a change of medication.  It made me laugh to read this.  How does the song go?  “Something’s lost and something’s gained by living every day.” 

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