The older I get the more things confuse me.

While en route to the farmer’s market one lovely Saturday morning, I spied a giant crane perched atop a new apartment building in downtown Phoenix. The towering machine resembled a monstrous metal bird.

“How’d they get that up there?” I asked my sweetie pie.

“What?”

“That crane.”

“In pieces,” he answered in a voice that said, Isn’t that obvious?”

In pieces. I couldn’t help but recall the weekend he put the pre-fab shed together in the backyard. He stood there proudly opening and closing the sliding doors, while I stared at the shocking number of left-over metal bits and pieces that remained on the ground.

I looked up again at the crane. “What if some of the screws are missing?” I felt an irrational desire to flee. “What if they didn’t put the parts back together correctly.”

Then, I got my car insurance bill. “Hey! How come I’m paying so much more? Did your bill go up too?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll call Vickie and ask,” he said.

Ryan returned from his chat with our insurance lady. “You’re old.”

“Pardon me?” I raised both eyebrows.

“Vicky said your rates went up because you’re an older woman.”

“But I haven’t had a ticket in almost thirty years,” I sputtered. “And, in my life, I’ve had one fender bender.”

Ryan shrugged. “That’s what she said. You’re in an age group that causes more accidents.”

I looked into the issue and found that as people age their vision, cognitive abilities, and reflexes tend to dull. I also learned that old people increasingly die in car crashes because they’re “frail”. Frail! No one has ever accused me of being frail.

Eieee!

Then, I got a letter telling me that the high blood pressure medication I’ve been taking for years might … gosh … cause cancer. “But don’t stop taking it!” the message emphatically stated.

Wait! You want me to keep taking a drug that could give me cancer?

Recently, I went to a high school football game. I arrived early, since I was serving as the referee. I’d contacted the school ahead of time, as I always do, identifying myself and my crew mates and the time they could expect us to arrive. I was escorted to the officials dressing room where I faced a sign that was prominently displayed on the door. No Females Permitted in the Locker Room after 4:00 PM. No Exceptions.

I paused. It was 5 o’clock.

The older I get the more things confuse me.