An Explosive Start To The New Year

As soon as the calendar flipped at midnight from 2006 to 2007, then as soon as the sparks from the fireworks fade away, right that minute, the 2006 models go on sale to make way for the 2007 models.

Yesterday, Ginny and I went to the showroom first thing as soon as they opened to buy an “old” 2006 model at a greatly reduced price.

We are to take delivery by 3 o’clock today.

Whoot!

Yes, the delivery men will come to our house, tussle it through the living room, down the hall into our bedroom and up onto the frame. They will cart our old model away forever.

I’ll miss it.

We bought it used back about 1985 and it served us well but Ginny has hankered for a brand new model for a long time, so we visited the showroom, stretched out on various test models and chose one.

I hate to confess being so behind times, but I had no idea that mattresses came in model years. To me one looks the same as another. They’re indistinguishable — like modern cars. But the mattress salesman assures me that constant technological advances result in such improvements that each year calls for a new model.

I found no fault with our 1985 model. I would have kept it. But time marches on without me.

Anyhow, tonight we will sleep on the 2006 model mattress and we can trade it in on next year’s model in only eleven months.

Life makes less and less sense to me as I get older.

Speaking of getting older…

I am going to write for another few minutes but this would be a good place for you to stop reading because my next subject is disturbing, unpleasant and embarrassing.

Walking across the grocery store parking lot yesterday I had an accident.

This sort of thing has not happened to me since I was a child. Abruptly, without warning, I explosively messed my own pants.

I don’t know if this event is related to a flu bug, the prostate cancer, or just general old age, but it was humiliating, smelly and embarrassing.

I could have cried.

Shocked, I duck waddled back to our car and had to sit in stink with the windows rolled down as Ginny drove me back to the house.

Once home, I changed and washed my clothes and showered — and trembled a bit at such an vivid reminder of my decline and mortality.

If we don’t die first, we get old and senile.

The theme of my blog says that I look for spiritual realities in everyday life. Well, I’ve told the reality, but what spiritual lesson can be drawn from such a disgusting incident?

I can’t think of a one, not a single one.

No inspirational Bible verse springs to my mind.

No line of poetry.

The only thing I can think of is the punch line from a joke for those of us over 65 years old:

Never trust a fart!.