If this is what getting old means.... I'll pass, thank you.

It is 11:30 in the morning and we are having a party here at the house!

Guests:  Olga, her slightly younger sister Norma, Norma's husband George, the home health nurse and the "foot guy".

Let me set the mood. 

All the old people in the house can not hear at all.  The television is up to mark 72 (out of a hundred), and they are all yelling over it to hear each other talk.   They are talking about me and my husband, I say talking... I mean yelling - and also just putting a few "lousy foreigners!" jabs.

The "foot guy" came late, but as the entertainment of the party he was greeted with much happiness.

Who is the mysterious "foot guy"?  He is a man that comes to the house and clips the toe nails of old people and files away their rough skin (I think I might have just found the worst job in the world).

So I sit here in the room, the room that they just walked into and put their shopping carts in, and I can hear them yelling and I can hear toe nails being clipped and I can hear the nurse talking about wounds and oozing and in between my trying to hold down my breakfast I think.... If this is what getting old means.... no thank you!