Will you still need me, will you still feed me...

I turn sixty five this year. That means I have to start planning a few things. For instance, I guess I'll have to get a pair of suspenders. Suspenders on a guy over sixty five is important. It gives him the look of a wise and experienced fellow, that is until he opens his mouth. Which leads me to another thing I need to start doing next year, giving un-solicited advice to young people. Nothing says over-the-hill better than telling your young niece that her nose ring makes her look like a tramp, and that she'll never get the other ring, the one on her finger, looking like that. I probably don't have to practice yelling things at people though. "Hey you punk, get off of my lawn.", seems like it would just come naturally. Another old man thing, shoes. I already wear Rockport shoes, so I don't have to worry about the old man shoes. What I'm not so sure about though is the sagging pants. I don't want to look like some punk kid with his pants sagging down under his ass cheeks, but I think the trick to that look is the boxer shorts. Old men don't wear them, they just sag and show ass crack. Besides, the next step comes after eighty when I move the beltline up to my nipples.

I'm also concerned about financial things as I turn sixty five. Late next year I lose a bit of my income, so yesterday I asked my neighbor to give me a lift up to the bank so I could hash things out with Robert the bank guy. I wanted to know what my options were in regard to my real estate. What I want is to the get the most monetarily out of it. So Robert began pecking away at the calculator, and entering stuff on his computer, all the time keeping up a running narration of what he was doing. Refinancing, mortgage, secured loan, unsecured loan, home improvement loan, reverse mortgage, reverse cowboy....   it all was swirling around in my head. As my brain went numb and my eyes rolled back, my neighbor said to Robert, "I think Alan needs a break."

I've pretty much figured out what I'll do with my real estate. That little break that Robert gave me allowed my mind to reset and catch up. It turns out that I need to down size, sell this place and find something a bit more manageable. Like a single family house, or maybe a condo. Whatever it is I do, there is one thing that I can be sure of. Mark isn't going to like it. He's going to start whining and complaining about losing his beloved home, which is when I start pretending to be hard of hearing. After all, I'll officially be an old man.