Get Off My Lawn - Part 2

Or he was just talking out of his ass. It could go either way.

Finally, I made it home and was ready to shake off the day, change into my flannel pants, and flop on the couch. When I went into the kitchen, I found a letter from AARP amongst the day's mail. I thought that was kind of odd – at my age, why would AARP be trying to reach me? Then I opened the letter:

“Our records show that you haven't yet registered for the benefits of AARP membership, even though you are fully eligible.”

Um, what?

Wait, there's more.

“As a member, you'll have the resources and information you need to get the most out of life over 50.”

Life over 50 what? Decibels? Bottles of beer on the wall? What?

I knew they were serious, because they actually enclosed a plastic membership card.

I had the urge to go double-check my driver's license, because I'm pretty sure I'm nowhere near 50. But AARP thinks I am. I knew it was a mistake, but I didn't need the nudge to my psyche. I wondered what other mailing lists I got on? Catalogues for sensible shoes, little coin purses and rain hats? (I'm serious about the mailing list thing. A few years ago I had to buy a hunting knife and a fly-fishing lure-tying kit as props for a play I was working on, and you wouldn't believe the catalogs I get now. One was entirely filled with camouflage – not just to wear, but lamp shades, throw pillows, guest towels...) So, lesson learned. I should never, ever open anything from AARP. Not even if it has George Clooney's picture on it. It will do nothing for my self-esteem and will probably lead to an Activia-binge (or whatever Jaime Lee Curtis or Susan Sarandon are selling these days). Also, I will embrace maturity, even if my socks don't match, and relish the fact that my friends would stage an intervention if I ever touted the life lessons inherent in Jersey Shore.

But here's my #1 Take Home Lesson for the Day:

Don't mess with teenagers without adequate caffeine and an exit strategy.

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