If the saying, “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?” is true, that would mean I am approximately 103 years old and counting.
Not only do I physically feel old and barely recognize myself in the mirror any more, but I also go to bed by 10, enjoy prunes, gripe about technology and the clothes teenagers wear, forget what I said five minutes ago and often put “the” in front of things that don’t require it—such as, “The Target” or “The Twitter.”
I would like to think I’m simply an old soul. Yes, let’s go with that.
But one more thing that I’ve noticed lately is that I can’t stand loud things, which inevitably means I’m going to start standing on my sidewalk and yelling (ironically) at cars driving by to turn down that garbage on their radio or asking people to use their indoor voices when speaking into my good ear.
This new thing has been silently sneaking up on me but I’m noticing it more and more.
It’s like everyone has ramped up the volume when they speak, most likely because they have their head bent over their phone or forget what it’s like to actually interact with another human when not connected via Internet.
However, it’s not just vocal volume that is grating on my nerves. It’s the sound of doors shutting a little too hard, staplers smashing down on papers and lord help me—people typing on their keyboards like they’re playing Whac-A-Mole with their fingers and the keys.
And the sound of people slurping up their drinks or eating corn on the cob? I’ll admit it sparks feelings of rage comparable to when I hear someone TYPING REALLY LOUD ON THEIR KEYBOARD.
Perhaps I’m just overstimulated with all the noise we’re faced with every day, but most likely I’m just oversensitive and undermedicated.
All of this is to say that at 30, I still have a hard time believing that the ’90s were 20 years ago and that 2012 is a “thing.” When I hear that some of my favorite athletes were born after the glorious year of 1981 when I graced this planet with my presence, a tiny little tear drips down my wrinkly face.
OK. In my old age I may be prone to slight hyperbole, as even in my advanced state I remembered enough about the ’80s to share some of my memories over at funnynotslutty.com. If you’re so inclined and want to see a picture of me grabbing my boobs, head on over that way.
Just please gently shut the door when you go…
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Abby Has Issues 
Hey, at least you know where you are. Sometimes I’m 37 going on 90 and feel like I should be on the lawn with a shovel yelling at kids to stay off my grass. The other half I think I’m 37 going on 12 ’cause I can’t stop laughing at poop jokes. I do pretty much everything you’ve stated there, only last night I went to bed at 8:45. I was up again at 11, but it still totally counts.
I’m the same way. On one hand I’m a geezer, but on the other I have the mentality of a 12-year-old boy…and the bra size, unfortunately.
we’ve talked about this. I have no short term memory. I cant tell you what I had for my breakfast. my kids are hey you, what’s your name, and that other one. I laso out “the” in front of everything.
Mostly, I miss my body being able to stay up all night and funtion the next day. Bobina and I went out for her birthday on april 1st, I’m just now over the drinking and late night stuff, almost 3 weeks later.
I still enjoy really loud music. But I’ve caught myself turning down the sound on the tv and telling the kids to pipe down.
I’ve been known to blast the music myself, but as long as it’s MY music, it’s okay, right?
Wait, this stuff means we’re OLD? I can’t be old, I just started using The Facebook, and that there’s fer youngins!
Uhoh. At first, I was like “Yeah i totally hate loud noises too!”
…until I got to the loud typing part. I’m guilty, but i swear its my keyboard’s fault!!
Coworker one (down the hall): I can hear you typing!
Me to coworker two (right next to me): Can you believe cw can hear me type?!
Coworker two: HELLEN KELLER could hear you type.
*runs and hides*
It sounds like that’s a common thing and I’m sure I’m guilty of it as well. Some days though, I just want to lock myself in a quiet room (and type, as for some reason, my own typing doesn’t bother me.) In other words, I’m evil.
I do not like loud either. I used to love my job in a library…until they became community centers in this brave new world of reduced funding. My philosophy about doors: Enter and exit a room as if there is someone inside trying to sleep (close/open doors gently). The best things about small kindnesses: they’re free but worth so much.
I hate loud, too. But then, I was born in 1944!
Oh Lord, sister, just wait until you hit 40. Nah, I am kicking ass like never before, but loud noises and bright lights have *always* brought me to my knees or caused me to grumble like an old bitty. Speaking of bitties, I wanna be an old bitty–they rock.
Holy crap, you’re only 30! Wait til you hit your 40’s and hear slamming doors, but can’t read a damn thing without your reading glasses. Where the hell are mine anyway???
Cannot stand people in public places talking so loud on their cell phones – Do they have such big egos they think everyone will be impressed by their conversations – or feel so pathetic and lonely in a crowd they have to show everyone that somewhere someone things they are entertaining and witty – or deaf ( excusable…I tend to give gray hair and canes a pass) – or just stupid and inconsiderate?
Oh, sorry about the typing – guilty here (it’s kinda like fingers tap dancing? – OK anything to ease the drudgery on occasion)…but I did it in the last office to passively irritate a VERY annoying person….(now I will go type in a distant location so as not to disturb anyone…..)
I’m going to reframe it as “fingers tap dancing” from now on to give it a more manageable spin. I like it! As for the phone thing? We’re on the same page. No reframing necessary.
I totally add “the” to things that don’t need it! But I also crank the old ladyness up a notch by adding a descriptor to the end. Like, “The Trader Joe’s Store” or “The Facebook Site.” I think I may have started it as a joke, but now I can’t stop. Can’t. Stop.
I suppose when you get old, you either lose your hearing (which I think I’m doing or my family back home is tricking me by having the TV on so low I can’t hear it), or you gain the ability to complain that things are too loud.
I add ‘the’ but the rest…I think you’re my husband.
I hate loud noises. Especially loud televisions. Are you really that deaf? Sit closer if that’s the case!
I remember, during my ninth birthday party, the adults noticed that I was a polite little girl who liked to engage in conversations with people who were aged two or three generations older. Somebody commented saying that I was “just like a little grandmother.” Nice. I think I have a head start above you. 😛
I don’t know. I just spent my Friday night with 90-year-old women and learned three new Polish swear words (that I don’t remember now) and cleaned gravy-covered Jell-O off the floor. I think I win 😉
I’m a loud talker, but nobody else is allowed to be. That’s fair, right?
Prunes rock.
I like to be in bed by NINE and*always* complain about the Kids These Days.
That said, terms like “obvi”, “probs”. “totes”, “OMG” and “FML” are permanent fixtures of my vernacular so… Not sure on the average there/can we still be friends?
I am such a grandma. Lately I’ve been going to bed by 9:30 and find myself glaring at youngsters listening to their rap music loudly in their cars.
Having to listen to them eat is one of the main reasons I could never have kids. When my cousiniece was little – (I was 15 when she was born, more of an aunt, but as an only child, when I call her “kind of my niece” people cock their heads at a 45 degree angle and wonder aloud if I missed “family tree day” in school) – anyway, when she was like, in preschool? (and maybe still now?) eating with their family always caused me major stress because she naturally always wanted to sit next to me, but I would literally become nauseated listening to her mash/eat/smuch/swallow her food open-mouthed like all little kids do, and then that weird saliva-squirty-inside-the-mouth noise some people make even with their mouths closed. Now it’s the same thing with one of my grandmas, only her teeth don’t fit right so you also get to hear all that poppin’ and lockin’. Circle of life, I suppose…
Anyway, I always end up in a heaving, otherwise-silent fit of rage over the fact that *I* am the hypersensitive, PITA, delicate one because I can’t stomach the noises. BUT ONCE YOU HEAR THEM, YOU CAN’T *UN*HEAR THEM. Like the typing thing…and then you’re so anxiously primed to *try to not hear it* that you end up hearing it immediately.
so…yeah.
This is why I love you so, so much.
But it’s also so timely you mention the old people teeth thing, as even though I love the crankpot that is my grandma, her teeth have been highly problematic lately (when they’re in her mouth, that is.) I don’t know what’s up, but it sounds like a shod horse clomping down the road every time she eats now. I try and ignore it, but good lord. Glue those babies in or something.
exactly! things change, things grow – get the suckers refitted or for the love of god, don’t chew around me. She also puts way too much pepper on everything, exactly and only the superfine powder kind, then proceeds to get choked in 3…2…1HACK because “pepper got stuck in her tonsil hole.” Thanks for THAT visual, Gram. Now you and cousiniece go sit at the far end of the table if you mean what you say about my needing to gain weight. It’s like a damned horse eating a banana. or twelve. UGHHHH. (and thanks! I love you, too 🙂 )
My 9yr old was born HATEING loud & bright lights! I guess he started out a “senior-soul”. :^/
I swear to you, if I click over to check out a new blog and they type in all caps? I shut down my entire laptop and go lay down on my plastic-covered couch for an hour to recover.
Now I go to see a picture of you holding your boobs.
Dogs barking will send me right over the edge. I’d rather hear a room of people eating carrot sticks set to a soundtrack of loud typing than listen to my dog bark at the next door neighbor.
You are a baby. I can say that now that I’m 43. Just wait ten years. See? Now, I’m acting like one of those old women who have to say, “Just you wait.” I can’t handle “the loud” as I like to call it. People in my face, talking loudly and too fast, drive me crazy. You are not alone. And, just you wait, it gets worse.
I’m around 90-year-old people a lot, and I swear I complain more than they do. Then again, maybe they just can’t hear anything so loud TVs and talking are ignored 😉
Okay, so the annoyance at loud noises happens at age 30? I turn 30 tomorrow and have been noticing lately how noisy people are. I figured I was developing Autism, but maybe not…
I was going to write something really funny here but I just forgot where I am at.