My darling husband is a member of AARP and just bought me a membership as well. I didn't want it and made it abundantly clear.
However, upon closer examination... I think I do need AARP. Or a hospital bed.
My body is simply falling apart. If I hadn't known it already, this little episode with my back certainly drilled it into my brain.
* If I sit too long, my knees hurt and I have to limp when I get up.
* I wear TRIfocals now just to read, to drive... to walk...
* I find myself regularly telling Elizabeth about the time we didn't have microwaves, seatbelts or computers. Or lead free paint. And how we all survived just fine.
* I also tell her she's spoiled. How I never had PF Flyers, a Barbie with a pony tail or a Ken doll. (My parents didn't want Ken to put any ideas in my head.) My Barbie also didn't have a car. (I guess my parents didn't want me to get ideas about driving one day, either. That could be pretty racy, you know.)
Poor Elizabeth. She hates hearing how good she has it and how bad we had it. I wonder if she'd rather hear more about my aching back, my acid reflux and my Planter's Fasciitis?
Maybe she'd just rather hear how I'm older than dirt.