We All Have Those Days

 I was out of it. 

     But it wasn't my fault. 

     Not Really.

     My wife woke me up from a perfectly good nap so she could send me to buy our youngest daughter some Asian food from Panda Express. Hard to believe I retired just so I could be my family's personal Uber Eats guy. 

     By the way, did you know that pandas poop more than they eat? It's true, but it's disgusting and I'm digressing...

     I don't usually nap, because then I'll have a hard time falling to sleep that night, but we had a big weekend. I went to the funeral of a buddy of mine's father on Friday, a baby shower on Saturday, left the baby shower early to go to a graduation dinner, a swimming party on Sunday, so, yeah, I was pooped. 

     "Send me a text of what you want," I told my youngest daughter, because, according to my wife I have two faults: not paying attention and, um, something else. When I try to defend myself by insisting I'm a multi-tasker, she'll agree.

     "Yes," she'll say. "You can listen, ignore, and forget all at the same time."

     But I'm digressing again...

     "Don't dawdle," my wife warned me on my way out. She knows it can sometimes take me all day to get nothing done.

     I've never been to Panda Express before, so between my wife and my daughter's directions, I was thoroughly confused. I used Google Maps and followed its directions. 

     "Turn left and pull into the parking lot," Google told me, and I complied. 

     I could see the building had a drive-through, so I pulled into it. When it was my turn, I gave the cashier--a young man--my order. 

     "This isn't a drive-through," he told me. "It's a pickup window." 

     That annoyed me. I thought not giving your customers the opportunity to order in what was, linguistics aside, obviously a drive-through was stupid, but I said "No problem" and drove around, parked, got out of my car, got in line, and when it was again my turn I gave the same young man my order. 

     "This isn't Panda Express," he told me. "This is Chipotle." 

     When you get old, your first instinct is to get mad rather than embarrassed, I don't know why, but on this occasion I just got embarrassed. Maybe I'm not as old as people keep reminding me, and, by people, I mean my wife.

     "Man, I am so out of it," I said. No wonder I didn't see any fried rice.

     "That's okay," he said, sympathetically. He was a good kid. "We all have those days."

     But it was more than that. 

     No, I hadn't entered The Twilight Zone. It was worse than that. I realized I had entered The Sad Old Man Zone. Hold on while I overthink this, but from one day to the next I've become that pathetic old geezer everybody feels sorry for. One minute you're young, dumb, and full of fun, and the next you're turning down the volume on the car radio so you can pay better attention on the road. Apparently, I'm now at the age where maybe it's not such a good idea for me to stand too close to the curb on trash day.

     Let's just say I thought getting old would take longer than it did.

     I left Chipotle and drove to Panda Express. It was right next door! How had I missed it? Truth was, I wasn't paying attention. I'd better be careful, because the next time I go to an antique auction, someone will end up bidding on me. 

     When I got back home with the food I must have had a look on my face because my wife asked me if everything was okay.

     "Getting old is the dumbest thing I've ever done," I said.