In the last month I purchased a new tv, picked up some medications, added some shelving to the bedroom, and transferred a CD at my credit union. There wasn’t a single document for any of these transactions that could be read with the older, naked eye… even with “readers”* and a hand-held magnifying glass. It’s possible my checking account now contains a vitamin D supplement. Assembling the shelf required a chair, three light sources, the magnifying glass, and an hour nap upon completion. My particular situation may be different from others due to The Calamities, but it needs to be asked: Why is print so small, and getting smaller? And does anyone know what contrast means? Often light black type is used with a light gray background, especially online. It is aging, I know, since after typing in size 12 Times New Roman for 60 years, the size of this post is 14 Liberation Serif…at least until published.** But size 20 is easily “seen” (pun?) in the future.

I need a pill cutter/splitter. Never has there been a need, urge, or even a mistaken opportunity to use that phrase until August 17, 2025. Good or bad? Since it’s such a new subject, wonder if any young person DOES need a pill cutter/splitter…for any legal reason, anyway.

Altering any physical position is an adventure. Political, emotional, and life positions are still very welcome to change, and often do, without warning. But—in old age–arising to the vertical from a horizontal requires timing and advance preparation if a smidgen of grace and personal honor are to be maintained. (Or artfully exhibited?) Even going from vertical to horizontal is a challenge, too, if in public or anyone is watching. What is done in the privacy of one’s home need not be revealed, but the word “plop” may convey an accurate image. Even then, good eyesight and correct aim are required. (See first paragraph.) And—for the readers sake—there will be no mention of public toilets.

Writing a post like this could happen daily, if one lets it. Seniors are the most persecuted, ignored, and scammed cohort of people in America, and possibly the world. (With the exception of maybe, babies. Is that spoonful of mashed peas really an airplane coming in for a landing?) So letting others know how bad we have it becomes a daily routine, as if it never happened to anyone before and the challenges are all new, seen by us for the first time in this world.

But nothing is ever new and neither are our complaints. The only comfort we can take from our constant listing of grievances is that even those who don’t listen to us will understand eventually, if they’re lucky enough.

So why still complain? As the great Doctor Wright says: “If everything seems to be going good, you have obviously overlooked something.” And I needed to post a piece. It’s been awhile. And I’m tired of Trump stuff. Aren’t you?

*eye helpers placed all over the places we occupy because we can’t keep track of one pair.

** I’ve no idea the size or readability of this post after publication, when you read it. My laptop is set to enlarge everything, and my phone display only goes so big, so…if you have a complaint about readability, sit on it. No one cares.