I Refuse

The hours are swiftly ticking down to doomsday, to that moment in time I dread. In just around ten hours I turn sixty five years old. In just around ten hours my life will change. I'll stop being a human being and suddenly I'll be nothing more than a senior citizen. I'll be a target for insurance scams, Medicare hucksters insisting that I need a HurryCane®, Life Alert ®, or one of those little go-kart things to get around my house (Okay, the little go-kart thing isn't so bad). I'll have to watch baseball games with my eyes closed while snoring in my big fluffy chair... Oh, wait, that already happens. What I won't do is start listening to Andy Williams and vacationing in Branson, Missouri. I won't start yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off my lawn. I will not confuse the accelerator for the brake pedal after fifty years of knowing exactly where they are located (Brake's on the right.. right?) In fact what I will do is the complete opposite of what is expected of me. I will move out of Florida, and back up to the frozen north country, because I can't stand the smell of mildew, toe jam, and old people who think deodorant isn't necessary because they can't smell themselves. Yes my friends, that is exactly what Florida smells like.