Okay, enough reference to J Alfred Prufrock.
I grow old.
Yesterday, a dock worker at one of the stores turned 21. I'm twice his age! 2 21's!
If only 1 of those 21's was my left buzzy, and the other, my right. No, indeed not. The buzzies continue their slow unwind. Two weights in a grandfather clock.
And then there's my dock guy. He makes me feel old. Weary. World-worn. Even though he's probably older than I am. Two days of overtime. Not necessary overtime. Stupid overtime. I don't mind the former (weee! money!); hate the latter (my dock bitch is screwing up! in stupid ways!)
He has the unfortunate inability to realize when he's drowning until he's up to his nostrils in murky swamp water. He tries to do it all. Just as Nick Bottom in A Midsummer Night's Dream wanted to play his role and everyone else's role, too, so does my dock guy. .... He. Will. Not. Ask. For. Help. ... Even when he is repeatedly told to and offered help.
I'm old. I'm annoyed. He makes my ass twitch.
I'm reminded of that classic joke about the man, waiting on his roof as the water rises. A man in a row boat comes by, offering aid. "No thanks. God will save me." A man in a power boat comes by. "Nope, I trust in my God to save me." A helicopter hovers overhead, and it too is declined as the man waits for God's salvation. The water overtakes him and he drowns.
Up in heaven, he asks God, "God, why didn't you save me?" and God replies, "I sent you a row boat, a power boat and a helicopter. What more did you want?"
... Curmudgeon, here I come.