The Sofa and the Old Woman

This is the story of the sofa and the old woman. 

It happened like this: I spent several days this past week with daughter Mandy; her husband, Adam; their three-year-old, Harrison; and the almost-four-month-old Fisher a/k/a The Fish.

Early in the week Mandy called to let me know that she and The Fish were sick and she had no energy.  As most reasonable folks know, a mother of an infant and an active three-year-old must have energy.  Mandy said she needed my help, so I drove to Murrells Inlet to help as I could.

And it was during these few days that I learned a new indicator of "old age." 

There's a sofa in the room with the TV, the official "hang-out" room at their house.  And there's one spot on the sofa that I occupy when I'm feeding The Fish, or reading, or checking e-mail - well, you get the picture.  It's just the point to which I gravitate. 

One night the family decided to play a joke on me.  They put a "whoopee cushion" under my usual spot -- the place on the sofa  that I seemed to claim as mine for giving The Fish his bottle or for whatever I'm doing. 

So, I - the innocent victim of the prank - plopped down on that spot on the sofa.  And, yes, there was one of those awful sounds as I crushed the whoopee cushion.

And that's when I learned what old age really is.  They all laughed.  I didn't know there was a whoopee cushion there.  It was just a typical sound for me, one that I seem to make all too often -- without the aid of a cushion.

And, my friend, if you don't understand what I'm saying, just wait.  You will.  When you're this age -- old -- you'll understand -- totally!


1 comment:

Syd said...

I played that trick on my very proper mother once. She was not immediately amused and said, "Oh, excuse me!" Then she got the joke and laughed.

This site was recently updated by oxymoron13@aol.com