Old is New

Being old is a new thing. At least, being this old at this young an age. There are plenty of people living the dream of 60 being the new 40.
Lucky them.

Me, at not quite 62. I feel more like 82. Some days maybe even 102. I envy those 'young' people. I always thought I'd be one of them.

I thought walking would keep me young(er) forever.

And then it kept getting more and more difficult.

Now, as well, as not walking, I'm grossly overweight.
I hurt. My back spasms. My hips are randomly stiff. My butt muscles tighten and ache. My knees buckle. My ankles roll. My feet swell.

I feel cold.

I'm beginning to have trouble hearing as well as visual problems. Even though my basic vision, thanks to last year's cataract surgeries, is better than it has been for years.

The cold is as much a surprise as the not walking. Cold hasn't especially bothered me much in my life. Put on more clothes, wear socks; that takes care of that.
Except that it no longer does.
The cold is inside me, working its way out.
In my bones.
A part of my bones, liquid and silvery.
And shivery.

Some days I feel frail, fragile, and feeble. It's an odd feeling in a body the size of a cow. Anyone this large should feel somewhat strong, even if it's "only" the strength of a steamroller.

I hate it.
I hate this.
I don't want to be prematurely old.
I also don't want to be an old person acting stupid-young. Although who really gets to define that? After a certain age and a certain amount of living, we should all be able to be ourselves: silly, shivering, happy, sad, glad, mad -- our best or truest self isn't anyone else's business.

It's a New Year, but it isn't a New Me.
It's an Old me.
And getting older.

The Job Search

Who ever knew that finding a job, any job, would be so difficult? I may as well be hunting for unicorns or the Loch Ness Monster. If I were doing the latter, I could probably get sponsors and a budget.

I never completely dropped out of the job search. I regularly would put in applications, and there are a few online places that, if they used paper, could paper a room with my monthly re-apps. But while Rex was alive, he was my priority. Although he was not, until the last few months, so bad he couldn't be left, he was edgy and fitful about any work I might find -- not wanting irregular hours and preferring no driving at night, and all sorts of impossible conditions in a tight job market. Plus having to work around his Dr appointments and the days when he couldn't be left. (Of course, he thought he could; he'd be all right. He'd just not eat or drink until someone came home again.)

Anyway, I never completely quit looking, but I wasn't aggressive about it, either.

Well for not quite three weeks, I have been aggressive.
The result has been the same -- I remain unemployed..

I am surprised. I don't want any executive type position.
I don't want a specialist position.
I don't want a licensed position.
I don't want a certified position.
I just want a job, any job. I will be there, on time if not early. Any time, day, night, or in between. Overnight. Back when I was working, that would have been a bonus. Someone to be depended on. They were treasures, the Old Reliables.

I want to be an Old Reliable.

There have been a few -- very few -- interviews.
I believe the "Old" may be the problem. No on wants Old.
Combine it with fat, and youthful hirers see only Losers.
Darned kids don't know anything, do they? Every company family needs a Mom (or Gramma). Every company family needs an anchor, someone that can be called and can be counted on to be there.

It's winter now. I think there may be some learning this hard lesson as weather keeps the inexperienced at home.

But will it be in time for them to hire me?
They can only hope so.