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Of late, I seem to be telling stories like an old man. I start to say something, and then try to pin a year on it. When I finally get a year pinned down, I end up saying something like, "That couldn't have been three years ago." Then I stare off into space and consider if it really was three years ago. Eventually, I shrug my shoulders and mumble, "Must have been." By then I've forgotten what I was going to say.

In the plus column, I've been practicing saying "get off my lawn" and "damned kids", so I should be the best cranky old man ever. And that, my friends, is what we call a worthwhile life goal.