There is much merriment in the world of geriatric graceful aging. First and foremost, before you even get close post sixty you would do well to establish a grainy gritty sense of humor.
This is not the humor of your youth, or even middle age. Like a fine wine that takes time to develop this is The Cadillac of humor, or I guess in this age, given the times, The Tesla of Humor. Did I get that right? That very question is becoming The Question of each and every day in some small way. Did I get that right? Does that sound right? Good grief.
The object of your humor is nothing more than yourself. Yup, better learn to laugh at yourself. Start young. It makes it easier in the dim lit of the top ten ( 70, 80, 90, 100).
A sound chuckle after an Oops achieves a lot of things; it saves those around you from gazing too long trying to make sense of what you have just done or said, it gives same said audience a chance to chuckle (something they may not be doing much of these days. They can be a serious lot, these young’uns, can’t they?), it increases your ever slowing circulation (always a plus), and it gives you a moment to get your head on straight and try to figure out just what the hell you were doing in the first place.
The downside is laughing, depending on your circumstance and effectiveness of medications, may cause some urinary incontinence. (I never thought I would see the day when adult pull-ups were not only necessary but the subject of cocktail party conversation. Now is that right? If people still socialize in such groups are the groups even called cocktail parties anymore?)
I swear, I over heard a conversation last evening, note ‘over heard’ cause no way I would be a part of such a group, and it went like this. “Oh, I tried that brand of Pull-up and did not like it. I get mine in bulk at….” Honest. I kid you not.
Anyway one of the joys of senior communication is making plans to speak to someone half a world away. See? Again, I kid you not. She is literally half a world away.
So we know she is a day ahead and seventeen hours or something. But for me the easy way is that she is always, well most of the time, eight hours behind me (and one day ahead). We did well over the last couple of years with our skyping EXCEPT when those damn clocks change. She is the opposite of seasons so when I have summer, she had winter. Except in winter the clocks go back an hour (you know, Fall back and Spring forward.)
Yes there are times we just plain get befuddled with what the other side of the world is doing. And then there is Senior Logic where what is eight hours in our minds becomes six hours.
Every tried to contact someone when you are two hours away from reality? Uhuh. Not successful. It has nothing to do with time zones or planet placement. Now that is what I call the Oopside of Senior Communication.