Last Tuesday, I had a colonoscopy (my first). On Thursday, Barb had a mammogram (not her first). On Friday, Justin got his eyes checked. Barb called it our “body preventive maintenance week.”
I called it getting old. Well, at least for Barb and me.
I am at the age where hair suddenly picks up stakes and starts moving around. It’s like it decides that the hairline has become an undesirable neighborhood and the real hot property on the face is the top of the ear. The hair at the temples has decided that rather than move, it would be good enough to get a new paint job. Out with brunette, in with gray.