My tree is up. My wreath is up. My garlands are up. (Hey, that sounds kinda kinky! I wish.) I am ready to park my heinie in front of "It's a Wonderful Life" and write Holiday cards tonight. I am so down with my bad self.
Oh, did I mention Way #58 to feel really old?
The other day, the Boy was going through a box of stuff that I'd finally cleared out of the Then's nightstand (after only a year, whatdya know). He yells downstairs, "Hey Mama, I found a square disk player and some little square disks!" Confused, I head into the living room and look up to the landing, where he's holding up--
a walkman. And some cassettes. Or, as they are apparently known by the youngins--square disks.
I think I feel the arthritis starting already.
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