Marilyn had an appointment in Launceston yesterday but, before we could leave, Jamie arrived to announce he would take her 'to give me a break'. While I was musing on this turn of events, I heard the garbage men trundling up the street. I started to wander out to collect the bin but met Bertine from Number 5 bringing it in for me.
"I thought I would save you the bother," she said, gaily.
I thanked her, of course, but I can't help feeling just a little miffed at the way things are turning out. Do I look like I need looking after? Do people think I have reached the stage in life when I can't be trusted to do anything?
Am I becoming redundant? I've read about how Eskimos put their old people out on the ice when they become too old to contribute. The polar bears deal with them. At least in Australia we are a bit more civilised and the worst thing we do is shove them into a nursing home for their twilight years.
Certainly I'm getting older but I'm not decrepit yet. Although, it's nice when I can use the excuse of getting older to avoid doing something I would rather not. It's a matter of getting the balance right.
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