You Know You’re Getting Old...

You get up to change the TV channel and decide as long as you're up,
you might as well go to bed.

You start complaining that, "They're building car seats too low!"

Your ears perk up when a laxative commercial comes on TV.

You call the place you keep leftovers the "icebox."

You wonder why everyone is starting to mumble.

You start videotaping daytime game shows.

When you do the hokey pokey and you "put your left hip out" . . . it stays out.

One of the throw pillows on your bed is a hot-water bottle.

You worry because you don't have any symptoms.

You spend more time on the menu than the waitress.

You feel your corns more than you do your oats.

Your actions creak louder than your words.

You wake up in the middle of the night tired and listless.
You know "where it's at", but forgot why it's there

You don't have any enemies because you've outlived them all.
You don't date women your own age, because there aren't any.

You remember what you did yesterday by what hurts today.
Everything that works hurts, and what doesn't hurt doesn't work.

Your children are beginning to look middle-aged.

Your mind makes contracts your body can't keep.

You know all the answers, but nobody asks the questions.

You are a "17" around the neck, a "44" around the waist
and a "96" around the golf course.

You find yourself giving good advice instead of setting a bad example.

The candles cost more than the cake.

The little gray-haired lady you help across the street is your wife.

In the morning you hear snap, crackle, pop, and it isn't your breakfast cereal.

You give your grandkids thirty-five cents for an ice cream cone,
and they look at you funny.

A dripping faucet causes an uncontrollable bladder urge.

By the time you've lit the last candle on your cake, the first one has burned out.

You stop buying natural foods, because you need all the preservatives you can get.

Your favorite feature in the newspaper is "Twenty-five Years Ago Today."

That last visit to the specialist cost you more than you earned
 in the first four years at work.

You go to the mall not to shop but get a free blood pressure examination.

You've finally got it all together, and then you forget where you left it.

You realize that whatever Mother Nature gave you,
Father Time is starting to take away.
You finally know your way around but no longer want to go.