I'm Exercised

This rumination comes to you from an Assisted Living Facility, commonly known as an Old Folks' Home. This is just short of a Nursing Home, where decrepit people are even decreptier. I DID offer to nurse off our hot new night manager, but she said I was just "being penile." I wonder if she meant "senile"? Young people today don't got any educatiom...

Anyway, what I meant to do was to tell you about my exercise regimen. When you're as old as I am (think Methuselah) you want to try to stay in shape. (Come to think of it, I'm not sure why. Without exercising I am going to kick the bucket 10 minutes sooner? Bring it on.)

This is representative of my morning workout:

--Deep knee bends (putting on trousers)
--Crunches (putting on socks)
--Weightlifting (donning fleece-lined sweatshirt)
--Treadmill (4th trip to bathroom)

And I do this EVERY DAY! No wonder I'm so tired.

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I think the general lack of exercise around here is what makes us lose our appetites. Meal after meal, you can look on our plates and see leftovers that would make a Sudanese weep. Barbecued pork sandwich: insides scraped out, half-eaten, bun left behind. Peas: buttered, then ignored. Squash: toyed with, declined.

This might be a good thing; the cook is slopping hogs in the kitchen.

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I think I need a new job. And maybe I got one sorta lined up: Daughter said she'd pay me to quit writing on the internet. According to her, she said, "You're making a fool of yourself." With my bad hearing, I heard her say: "You're a jewel."

So why would I want to quit THIS job?