When I was a kid I used to think anybody over thirty was old.  And cranky.  Well now that I am nearing the halfway point in my sixties I know that I am that cranky old timer. And you know what?  I like it.


I lost all patience around age 54 or 55.  It just vanished. For a long time I would keep life's little frustrations under my breath and just deal with it. But all of a sudden I find myself embracing my impatience.  Finding a kinship with it.  Feeling the freedom and liberty of getting old and not giving a hoot what somebody thinks.  I don't know where it came from...but I got it.

Now, lets remember.  I am a pretty happy guy. Kind of a "glass half full" guy.  I still enjoy life to its fullest and love my family, work and hobbies. But I do get a bit persnickety about life's little pains in the necks.

So, lucky you!  I thought periodically I would share these little irritations with you here on my website.  Here is Episode 1 of "Get off my lawn!"

I love a morning cup of coffee.  Just one.  But I gotta have it.  At work and at home.  On Saturday mornings I go out and get a cup from down the street.  I come home and head to my computer to load up my stories for this website and to answer emails.  I never trust the caps on the to-go coffees.  They are about as unreliable as Karl Rove's election predictions.  I mean how many times have you tried to sip your coffee while driving and a little bit of it dribbles out that one little loose corner of the cap and lands smack dab in the middle of your white dress or white shirt?

So I always take the cap off when I get set up to write at home so I can sip away at leisure.

Look at the cup of coffee at the top.  Can you believe it?  That is the dilemma I face every Saturday morning when I remove the cap and take the first sip.  It is filled right to the brim.  You cannot even move it without spilling it, let alone bring it up to your lips. Now I appreciate the extra nano-ounce of red hot java, but this is ridiculous.  I still end of dripping it onto the keyboard of the computer or the carpet.  And look at poor Stella. She is terrified at this ritual overpouring of a flaming cup of hot liquid.  I've asked to "leave a little room in it please" but that is also unreliable.

Why do they do this?  Nobody knows.

But it is a serious irritation to me.

And for this I say "Get off my lawn!"  And my beautiful wife rolls her eyes......