I never feel more old than when I get my semi-annual checkup at the dentist’s office. “Dr. Britney”, my dental hygenist, is a very bright, very capable young woman, who does an excellent job cleaning up after my poor attempts at brushing and flossing.
I think she has to be about 12 years old.
That is not the issue. It’s when I have a question. Or if she needs to tell me how to best brush my teeth. She talks slowly and a bit loudly, using that same tone of voice that I remember using with my Grandma when trying to explain what the VCR was doing. After an hour of that, I feel like I need a walker in order to mosey on back to the rest home where I listen to my vinyl albums as I polish my musket balls.