Tuesday, March 8, 2016

The Cuddly Curmudgeon

Curmudgeon:  : a person (especially an old man) who is easily annoyed or angered and who often complains. (Websters online.)
I have been jokingly referred to as an old man. My son loves to point out my white beard to his friends, which adds a few artificial years on to my otherwise youthful fifty-four. My wife likes to tell me that when we turn fifty-five this year, we will be qualified for a senior discount at the movie theater. I say, no thanks. I'm old school. I still believe you become a "senior citizen" at sixty-five years of age. 

Am I getting old and set in my ways? Well, that depends on what one means by set in my ways. I'm always open to new music. I stopped sweatin' to the oldies long ago. I tend to walk the same route to work every day, and order the same meal at Bagel Oasis. They just ask, "The usual?" Politically, I have not become more conservative as I've gotten older. In fact, my emotional investment in Bernie Sanders, as the democratic nominee in the upcoming presidential election is tantamount to a sports fan, anticipating the World Series.

Cuddly:  having the soft or appealing quality of a thing or person that you would like to cuddle. (Websters online.)

Good ole irascible me. Two anti-depressants coursing through my veins every day, and I still get low, but I get up and climb right back on top of Misanthropy Mountain. Most people know me as nice, even kindly. Old people and dogs especially, and really, when you come right down to it, they're the only ones that matter, right?

Maybe I don't qualify so much as cuddly. Since I walk to work, there is no extra poundage on my frame. I'm not teddy-bear-like, except for my hairy face. Maybe the title should have been The Cantankerous Curmudgeon or The Crusty Curmudgeon. Those adjectives are probably more appropriate. As an atheist, I often am seen as a hater, which is a little harsh, I must say. I sometimes refer to myself as a misanthrope -- a purple people hater -- but when it comes right down to it, I will always hold the door for the next person. After you, please. 

I was home from work sick yesterday. It's always a shame to waste a sick day actually being sick. I spent the day in bed, arising to consume some chicken soup and toast. Today is Tuesday, and besides being the day I put up my post, it's also the day when I go into the bookstore at two o'clock. I feel like I'm on the mend, but then there's always that pesky industrial disease...

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