You're Getting Older When
Everything hurts and what doesn't hurt, doesn't work.
The gleam in your eyes is from the sun hitting your bifocals.
You feel like the night after, and you haven't been anywhere.
Your little black book contains only names ending in M.D.
You get winded playing chess.
Your children begin to look middle aged.
You're still chasing women but can't remember why.
A dripping faucet causes an uncontrollable bladder urge.
You know all the answers, but nobody asks you the questions.
You look forward to a dull evening.
You walk with your head high trying to get used to your bifocals.
Your favorite part of the newspaper is "25 Years Ago Today..."
You turn out the light for economic reasons rather than romantic ones.
You sit in a rocking chair and can't get it going.
Your knees buckle and your belt won't.
You regret all those mistakes resisting temptation.
After painting the town red, you have to take a long rest before applying a second coat.
Dialing long distance wears you out.
You're startled the first time you are addressed as an old timer.
You just can't stand people who are intolerant.
The best part of your day is over when your alarm clock goes off.
You burn the midnight oil until 9 pm.
Your back goes out more often than you do.
A fortune teller offers to read your face.
Your pacemaker makes the garage door go up when you watch a pretty girl go by.
The little grey haired lady you help across the street is your wife.
You have too much room in the house and not enough room in the medicine cabinet.
You sink your teeth into a steak and they stay there.
