Oldtimers

Okay, now I'm getting worried. Yesterday Mark and I had a lunch date with a friend of mine on the south side of Chicago. Knowing Chicago traffic and the lack of intelligence of Chicago drivers, I allowed for one hour to get across town. So at the prescribed time I announced to Mark that we should get in the car and start our trip. One o'clock lunch date, twelve o'clock departure. What could go wrong? We were only traveling about eighteen miles. Fifteen minutes into the trip, on Lake Shore Drive, I looked at the time on the car clock. Eleven fifteen.

"Is that the right time?" I asked Mark.

"Yes, a quarter after eleven." He said as he continued to fart around with his iPhone.

"I thought it was noon. Why didn't you tell me it was only eleven when we left the house?"

"I thought you knew what you were doing." Mark said as he continued to poke at the phone.

"Well goddamnit, we're going to be an hour early. Wasn't it obvious we were leaving too early?"

"Oh sure, now it's my fault that you can't tell time....   asshole."

I was pissed, but Mark was right. It was not his fault I left the house one hour too early. He may be right, but is that any way to talk to somebody with early onset oldtimers disease?

Okay, so I figured that was a onetime mistake, until this morning. I have a nine thirty doctor's appointment this morning and I figured that I need half an hour to get there. I looked at the clock and told myself that if I want to leave half an hour before my appointment I had better get ready. So I jumped in the shower, shaved, brushed my teeth, put on my very best...  well, I put on some clothes, and started for the back door with the car keys. As I passed through the kitchen I looked at the time. Seven, fifty five. I was off by a whole hour. I thought it was eight, fifty five.

Okay, so I did it twice in two days. I could blow that off as just being stupid, but one other thing happened yesterday. I was trying to find our friends house on the south side of Chicago, and it was not there. We drove around and around, but it was not there. Mind you, we have been there many times. So I called him.

"Chuck, you live on Thirty Ninth Street don't you?"

"No. Forty Ninth Street. Forty Ninth, right by the tracks."

Well goddamnitsonofabitch.