I collect “sayings.” One I recently clipped from a catalog was, “A little grey hair is a small price to pay for all this wisdom.”
We can laugh as we age (that’s life) or we’ll miss the humor that seems to appear around every corner of the whole aging game. That is, we can enjoy it if we’re fortunate enough to overcome the hurdles that life seems to make a habit of tossing into our paths the further along we travel.
I could kick and scream, “It’s not fair…I was left unsupervised as a youngster,” when bad things happen, but I’ve found I like to take credit for the good things that appear. I must own up to not being perfect myself.
My husband is a “putter offer.” In other words, he put things off so often that I clipped a note to his last reminder that said, “I’ll do it. I said I’d do it. No need to keep reminding me every month for a year.”
When I asked him if he’d read my note, he just asked, “Was that for me? I tossed it. I figured you were just reminding yourself of something.”
Now Hubby is the kind of person who does the “fun” things first. I, on the other hand, tackle the most difficult thing first--to get it out of the way. (He sleeps better than I do, though, not seeming to have a care in the world about all he leaves undone. Go figure.)
The one thing we both agree with is the Lord has His hands full in dealing with both of our idiosyncrasies. While Hubby says, “He made me, so He must have put it in my genes to be who I am.”
I feel Glen (Hubby) must have signed off his list of instructions early because he missed the two that reminded him “There’s always room for improvement” and “He who hesitates is lost.”
When I mention one of my sayings to counter Glen’s lack of doing an item from my wonderfully thought-out “Honey do” list, he often comes back with something from his WONDER YEARS like, “I wonder what the price of rice is in China?” It’s then I know I’ve lost the argument. His mind has deliberately wandered from where I intended it to be, and I know he’ll keep asking inane questions until I quit pestering him.
It’s then I realize what mother meant when she said, “If you want something done right, do it yourself.” So I do!
You don’t suppose that’s why Hubby’s list keeps getting shorter by the day, do you? And why the minute I cross something off mine, another seems to magically appear at the bottom of it.
It’s times like this I begin to understand there are certain privileges to this growing older game, that if we live long enough, we all play. After all, I used to dust every day, but that’s not the routine anymore. Why, just the other day Hubby had the audacity to write “Dust me” on the back of the TV set. I found I could erase it very quickly with a tissue I already had in my hand--and could then turn my mind to something I enjoyed doing much more. After all, out of sight IS out of mind.
And while I’m at it, I just thank God dust is not like time. While we’re told, “Time waits for no man,” it is also said we return to dust when we die. How do I know that dust on the back of the TV wasn’t Great Grannie Mary coming for a visit? I certainly wouldn’t want her to thinks she wasn’t welcome. Do you suppose dusting is over rated? OR am I just starting to pick up some of Hubby’s habits?
I’ve heard it said, “The longer people live together, the more they begin to think alike.” Gee! That might be true of more than just thinking alike. After all, we both are beginning to lose our hair!
(You can contact columnist Faye Harris at Fayeharris77@yahoo.com)
See complete story in the Journal Record.