When you’re my age, the only thing older than you are half the Politician’s in Washington. Retired, no bills, and no one to make sexual demands of you any more and, no matter what you screw up, your age is always your excuse. Each morning, after I get out of the shower, I make my way into the kitchen to brew some coffee and drop a bagel in the toaster. All I’m wearing is my white haired polar bear suit. Walking around naked in my abode, while my coffee perks and my bagel toasts, is just part of my routine. While the appliances are preparing my breakfast, I go into the bedroom and get dressed…..shows over. The only time there was ever an issue, was when my grandson stopped by on his way to school and walked in on me and my morning ritual. Other than some retinal damage and a case of stuttering for the next two days, he was eventually okay.

     Wifey jumps all over me about things like this. In my heart, I know she’s tormented with lust demons after she sees me totally exposed like a plundering Viking wielding his mighty ax, but she just needs to take a cold shower or rub ice cubes under her arm pits. Anyway, I finally get dressed and with my ‘Grand Dad’ mug of coffee and a bagel with peanut butter, I sit back in my recliner and watch FOX news for the next hour, or until my blood pressure spikes. Then I get up, grab my monthly edition of ‘Birder’ magazine and I’m off to the porcelain dungeon for about 15 minutes. Relieved of that burden, I then go to my computer and check my emails, banking, Trixie’s House of Breast, my blog site, Netflix and finally I hammer out a few ideas for a blog. Then I take my morning medications, so I can go watch some more FOX news.

     Later, I eat a low calorie lunch of something tasteless, and then Wifey commandeers me to go with her to do some shopping! This is the part of the day that drains the very essence out of the few years still remaining to me, but shopping is the price I have to pay in order for Wifey to work out her erotic frustrations. Like all women, she never shops like a man shops. In the store, a man will ask where is it….then go get it….pay for it….then go to HOOTERS for a beer….twenty minutes, tops! But, Wifey acts like she’s on a crusade for the Holy Grail that was advertised at 20% off. She can walk into any store, and like a hungry wolverine, she can sniff out tasty bargains and delicious markdowns. Her and other’s of her species, go through the plus size racks like a clutch of raptors on a blood sent. Not a pretty sight, unless you‘ve had a few beers.

     Much later, we arrive back home and I immediately take a recuperative nap. Dinner that night will always be based on the amount of damage the credit cards went through that day. If it’s yesterday’s meatloaf and limas, that means she couldn’t find her size that day…..if it’s anything deep fried with mashed potatoes and gravy, then she maxed out the credit limit. Later, we will sit back and watch a good movie or anything that’s not a reality show. We will also enjoy a simple cocktail to finalize the day; she will have a Kahlúa and cream and I’ll have my usual two beers. Around ten, she’ll bid me nite-nite, and head to bed. I’ll get on the computer and check my emails, credit card account, my blogging site and finally Trixie’s House of Breast.

     I finally conclude day number 24,114 of my extensive life and I too head to bed. As I have done for decades, before falling asleep, I will lean over and kiss Wifey on the head and whisper “thank you.” She will then snort or grunt as she continues to dream of being ravished by Vikings with mighty axes.