Heh. I don’t need to be a youngster. Just too young for AARP.
When my father passed away last month, my sister and I were faced with the decision of what to do with his house, which is a slightly-fancy doublewide in a 55+ seniors-only trailer park. My brother-in-law just turned 50 in January, and he was overheard to mutter half-wistfully that he’d be half-tempted to just move in the place, if he thought he could get away with it. Their kids are grown and moved out, and the prospect of a paid-for house in a nice, quiet neighborhood sounded pretty good to him. He’d buy a used golf cart to get around.
My sister and I howled with mirth, pointing at him and calling him all kinds of old-fart names. Asking him if he was about to take up shuffleboard and building ships-in-bottles in his apparently limitless spare time.
Nah. We’re putting the place up on the market. Maybe tour Europe on the proceeds.
