NOTHING

Recently, I asked my wife to come up with an interesting subject that I could write about. It seems like I’ve covered all bases here lately, with my ideas seemingly repeating themselves. Hearing nothing back from Joleen for a couple of days and finally asking, “What subject did you choose for me?” — her response was, “Nothing.”

At first, I wasn’t going to take this subject on, but after thinking about it for a few seconds, the television series “Seinfeld” came to mind. That show was about nothing and it was absolutely hilarious. My favorite episode was when Kramer came up with the idea for a coffee table book about coffee tables. I still chuckle thinking of the harebrained plan.

Out of curiosity, I looked to see if there is such a book and came upon several, one listed for $198 used. A few were going for less but not much less. Seeing that, I tried to dream up a similar idea, coming up blank. There’s no better worthless book than a coffee table book about coffee tables. Whoever wrote that episode is brilliant.

I could ramble on and on about going to the grocery store the other morning, forgetting it was senior discount day, and not having to ask the clerk for my discount. Looking back on things, was that an insult, or were they merely profiling me based on the clothing I had on? Most seniors don’t wear Lightning Bolt tee-shirts so that shouldn’t have tipped them off.

Opening my mailbox the other afternoon and finding nothing inside, which is unusual, could be considered nothing to some, but not to most of us older folks. We’re always getting junk mail such as reverse mortgage offers, credit card offers, offers of a free meal to attend a 3-hour seminar, and best of all, a nicely written and personal advertisement for funeral services or embalming.

That in itself brings up another valid question. How do these undertakers know that we’re reaching that point? Many older women lie about their age while we guys stretch things a bit. I’ve told a few young clerks just for grins that I was 90 just to get a compliment, ‘You sure don’t look that old!” I don’t know about other seniors, but that seems the only way I can get kudos.

A week or two ago I was towing a small trailer while Joleen kept hearing this ringing or dinging sound. Believing it was the radio at first, she turned the volume down. The dinging continued for her but I didn’t hear nothing. Tinnitus has a way of camouflaging certain sounds like that.

Finally getting home, one of the safety chains had fallen off and was dragging on asphalt. It was almost worn flat, indicating that the thing was loose for quite a few miles. Thankfully, the sparks didn’t start a roadside brush fire.

For some folks this is nothing, but for me, that was perhaps the most exciting event happening the whole month of July, besides having our windshield replaced while I watched.

Hopefully, in the coming weeks, a presidential debate or two will take place. That might not excite some but I’m quite entertained watching them. Joleen will nuke a bag of Orville Redenbacher popcorn, and we’ll sit back and make sarcastic remarks about the opposing candidate as if they can hear us. Undoubtedly, we’re not the only ones playing ‘the blame game.’

There are other things to tell, yet nothing tops those I mentioned. A song that I’m very familiar with is “Life in the Fast Lane” by the Eagles. For those knowing the lyrics to this tune, nothing in it really fits my early lifestyle. I strictly like the song title because it relates to hotrod cars.

You might recognize the following two lines from the 1976 hit that fit my current life to a capital T.  They go like this, although I changed words just a bit.

“She said, listen baby I can hear the engine ring, we’ve been up and down this highway, and you haven’t heard a ding-dong thing!”