I feel so old today.

When I was a young man the Dead Sea was just getting sick.

At the restaurant where I take my mother for breakfast on Sundays the waitress talked about a concert she saw. I got into it with her about concerts. So as we were naming the musicians and groups we have seen live I got to a concert I attended in San Diego in the mid-to-late nineteen-eighties.

"It was three groups," I said, "The Gin Blossoms, The Beat Farmers and The Georgia Satellites."

"Never heard of any of them," she said.

It now takes me longer to rest up than it did to get tired.

I gave up all my bad habits and I still don't feel good.

At the breakfast table I hear "snap, crackle, pop" and I'm not eating cereal.

My back goes out but I have to stay home.

I figure that if I start smoking cigarettes again there won't be enough time left for it to hurt me anyway.

I realized that a postage stamp now costs more than a movie when I was a kid.

When I visit a museum they have all my childhood toys!

People call me at noon and say "Did I wake you?"

When I say "good grass" I'm now talking about the lawn.

Getting lucky means that I found my car in the parking lot.