Out of Sync

Good Morning.

I woke up Sunday morning to two inches of sloppy, wet snow. The trees, many of them not yet turned, were coated with the heavy white stuff and looked ridiculous. Evergreens are supposed to be blanketed with snow. Leafy oaks and maples are not. The shrubs on either side of my front door that are also programmed to drop their leaves before winter arrives were so bent over onto the stoop that there was hardly room to get in or out the door.

There are other things I find perplexing at the moment. Why are all these old people planning to run for president? I don't want people my age managing the affairs of state. I want people of my children's generation. We saw a bunch of grumpy old men during the Supreme Court hearings, and all of them need to find a nice palm tree in Florida, set up a lounge chair, and retire with a good book and one of those things you wear around your neck to summon help if you're suddenly incapacitated.

I also don't like the commercials for prescription medicines that promise to fix up this condition or that but then reel off three dozen side effects that include blurred vision, an inability to swallow, or even death. Then we have the law firms that will go after the pharmaceutical companies and tell us that we may be entitled to substantial compensation, not that we'll still be upright and functional enough to enjoy it. Speaking of lawyers, I'm tired of Michael Avenatti. Much as I'd like a day of reckoning for the current (old) Commander in Chief, Michael needs to go about his business privately and stay off the telly.

My garage and my driveway aren't aligned with each other. If I back my car out straight, I will get dangerously close to the house, like the other day I whacked my garbage can, fortunately plastic, that I keep near the side door. The trick is to back out crooked and hope I don't scrape the frame of the garage door on the way out. My neighbors are usually watching while I struggle with these maneuvers that often require two or three attempts before I'm actually on my way to the street. I feel like a decrepit mess which is why I don't want people of my age running for president.

I don't appreciate the junk mail that is delivered to my door or to my e-mail. I do not need a free dinner with a crowd of people who are apparently mismanaging their money, and I'm not interested in buying Viagra on-line from some outfit in Canada. I am also fed up with the telemarketers who used to call my land line even though I was on the Do Not Call list and who now call my cell phone even though I'm on the Do Not Call list. These pests begin shortly after eight in the morning and don't let up until 9:30 at night. I do not answer callers who do not identify themselves, but I still have to listen to the ring. I recently changed my ring because I was tired of the one I'd previously selected, but I think the new one is worse. These rings are silly. Nobody wants to listen to Hawaiian hula music or the William Tell Overture ten times a day, and yes I know I can have a traditional telephone ring, but then I would feel old.

Best regards,

Elisabeth