The signs are there, I'm growing old

Clothing catalogs arrive featuring waistbands with an "unrestrictive fit."

I tell my hairdresser I'm thinking of jazzing things up with some color. She asks if I'm looking to cover up the grey.

I find myself considering multifunctional items in the Brookstone catalog and thinking, now, that might be useful...

I fight the urge to call Pervis (the grocery checkout guy, not a pseudonym) "sweetheart" as a way of smoothing the way for the stern criticism which would have followed of his lackluster checkout performance.

I spruce up a bit to go to the supermarket.

I find myself lingering in the "slip-on shoes" section. I am wearing shoes that have zippers instead of laces.

My dog snores louder than my husband.