Dear Old Lady

Dear Old Lady,

While I understand that old age has its benefits, for the rest of us, your age merely sucks.

I have been stuck behind you in traffic as you sit on your phonebook and peer over the steering wheel, driving 20 in a 40 mph zone. Your Cadillac takes up so much of the road no one can hope to pass you, and, even if we could, we would fear for our safety as you hug the dotted yellow line like its the last life vest on the Titanic.

I have been trapped behind you in stores as you study every bottle of dish soap, your cart in the middle of the aisle, and my polite "excuse me's" falling on ears that severely need Miracle Ear.

I have been behind you in the check out when you haggle over twenty cents difference between an advertised prize and a charged price. I have waited while you have shown clerk and manager your outdated sales ad and tell them your social security check nightmares.

I have tried to be patient. I have tried to resist the urge you run you over in my car or in the store. I have only sighed a handful of times--loudly--while I waited with my ice cream melting and my libido waining (yes, you interfered with that!).

I have reminded myself most firmly that you are old and money is tight. I have reminded myself that one day I will be old and shuffling and driving in a way that disturbs every other driver on the road.

I hope my heathens off me first, but they are cruel monkeys, and may make me live.

I remember my own grandmother and realize that she would have been the same way.

I still want to run you over. But I hesitate, just long enough for you to meander away, safe for another day.

And, in that instant, I feel good.

Until I get stuck behind you on the road again.