Well, it’s official! I am now an old person. You know how I know? This week I bought a pill-splitter. Yes, you heard me right. The doctor changed the dose of one of my medicines from two a day to one and a half.
Now, when I was young and my life was one mad adventure after another, I’d often try to split a Valium (which were rare as hen’s teeth) in two with a knife and would always end up smashing them to smithereens. So, when I went to the pharmacy to pick up my prescription, I actually asked if they sold something to split the pills. They did, and pointed me toward a little gizmo that cost $5.00. And you know what’s really sad? I love this thing! It works like gangbusters! It cuts pills exactly in two with a sharp little blade. It was so neat to use that I had to stop myself before I split all the pills in the bottle!
And that’s when I knew. “Star, old girl,” I said, “do you realize that you’re actually getting excited about a pill-splitter? That’s something your grandma would have done.” I hung my head in shame for a few minutes and then snapped out of it. After all, grandma also made vases out of liquor bottles with a machine that would cut the tops off. Then she painted them with a kind of frosted paint and everyone would receive vases for Christmas. I’m not there yet, thank goodness. But, hey, the month is young…
The truth is, age for me represents an appreciation for the best, most efficient way of doing things. Maybe there’s something about having a limited time left on this earth that makes me loathe to waste any.
These days, when I’m about to run upstairs, I always look around to see if there’s anything else that might need to go up at the same time. When I’m ordering a book for my Kindle, I shop around while I’m in the Kindle store on-line and pick up several books at the same time. That way I don’t have to do it so often. And I’m never far from my Franklin planner, in which I write down everything I plan to accomplish each day. Not only does that help me remember everything I want to do, but on days when I feel that I’ve been a lazy slob, I can always point to my list of checked-off things and say, “See? You did a lot today! You’re a human dynamo!”
Outwardly, age seems to be winning the battle. Gravity is having a heyday with my body, especially my face. And what with the random age spots, wayward gray hairs and whiskers in places they have no business being, I can pretty much guarantee you that no one is going to mistake me for a twenty year old.
But inwardly, it’s a different story. The me inside still has pigtails, freckles across her nose and scabs on her knees. The me inside still loves puppets, a good story and finding new and interesting toys and gimmicks, especially robots. I love pulling tricks, making people laugh and laughing myself until tears come to my eyes. I love being totally silly and am drawn to people who accept that about me. The me inside is the me that I love. And that me will never grow old.
So, back to the pill-splitter. I guess that, alone, doesn’t totally categorize me. I mean, seriously, if you could see this thing and try it, you’d see it really is a neat invention. What does worry me, however, is that I just noticed that I actually used the phrase “as rare as hen’s teeth” earlier. Whoops. Where did THAT come from? Who says that anymore? And what the hell are hen’s teeth anyway? Oh well, I give up. I think I’ll just bring this to a close and go split some more pills.
Later,
Star, Simplified 