Even though we don’t have any symptoms, we were thinking about getting tested for the virus, Spouse and I. You see, I’m in the “vulnerable population” and he’s older. This led me to think about “older.” What is older? For one thing, he’s older than I am, and I’m 50. We are both many years older than our almost-two year old niece, so technically we are both older. Since my older brothers, Zander and Sam, and my sister, Zoe, are all older than I, they are “older,” too. Of course, all of us are older than Baby B. You are older than Baby B also, of course, because here you are with me, reading. Unless you are just crazily, freakishly smart for an under-two year old (in which case I’m surprised you haven’t been in the papers)! Since newspapers don’t exist anymore, I guess I meant that I haven’t read about you on Facebook. Oh, too lame. Facebook is for old people. Twitter, that’s what I meant. (By the time I finish this post, there will probably be something new. Twitter could become Twit. Twit could become T, and so on. And there’s Instagram. Gram. G. Faster, faster, faster. I’m older, so that that’s how it goes now.
Sadly for me, the most profound “older” during Covid is Baby B, because she’s older too, of course, than she was three plus months ago of Covid. That’s a LONG time in a baby’s life. Spouse and I have missed so much. Three plus months ago she was a toddling could-barely-walk creature. Now she’s running at full speed. Last week, she even got her first pair of real shoes. She was so excited! I hate to say it, but what a typical girl! Except for being a toddler and not a grown up, she’s just like the women on “Sleepless in New York” or whatever that show is. You know, the one about women who really love shoes? Oh, that’s right, “Sex in the City.” I’ve only watched it a couple times; forgive me for not remembering. I think I was trapped on an airplane or something so the choices were particularly limited. Part of why I’ve watched that show so rarely is that I hate shopping and I particularly hate shoe shopping. I like having shoes; I just don’t like shopping for them. However, whether or not she grows into being a shoe shopper, Baby B loved her shoes.
She happily ran around in them, little shoe lights blinking. At least they weren’t squeaking. If ever you dislike your friends (the ones who are also parents), consider your gift-giving carefully (and/or reconsider your friendship choices). Let’s say you don’t actually dislike your parent-friends (maybe you are just angry), but if so, and if you were mad at them, you could give them obnoxious, noisy presents for their small children. If for some weird reason you were mad at them, you could give them any present that makes noise of some kind: beeping, ringing, jingling, buzzing. You really shouldn’t buy any present that makes that horrible fax noise, though. That goes beyond legitimate friendship anger, honestly. Giving their child something with squeaky noises is one thing, but, honestly, fax-sounding toys are worthy of ending a friendship! Whoever created that hideous fax sound is as horrible as the person who invented high heels. No kidding! I hope whoever they are, in the afterlife, they have to walk around in high heels, listening to the sound of a fax, for all of eternity. It would serve them right!
2 replies on “Getting Older with Corona”
I sometimes wonder why the person who invented the fax machine bothered to make the sound audible. Sure, sure, you’d need some feedback if you had dialed a wrong number(anyone remember the jarring experience of your fax machine ringing and then saying “hello?”) But since the designer knows the outgoing sound, and the incoming handshake, it ought to be easy enough to equalize the sound.
Unless, of course, that particular inventor *wanted* folks to hear that sound.
A sadist inventor, I’m sure! I do like the feedback loop-it’s important! Appreciate you reading, Alex.