Finding your true age

This morning I reached into my oversized purse and fished through in search of my keys, which ended up being in my coat pocket, but that’s beside the point.  The point is that I found the following items floating around down there: wallet, checkbook, pack of tissues, deck of playing cards, and cough drops.  And if I was a betting woman, I would guess that the contents of my nearly 90-year-old grandmother’s purse would be exactly the same thing.
I laughed, and then felt like I should maybe qualify for the senior citizen discount because the wisdom of true necessity is not usually reached by someone as young as I.
This whole scenario played out the morning after my children and I went out for dinner at 4:00.  And while I know most of you are thinking early-bird special, I will tell you that as we sat in that nearly empty restaurant, we all felt our youth and it was not based on the time or the few other clientele at the nearby tables.  It was based on our absolute immaturity.  (At this time I’d like to apologize to those lovely people around us.)
We laughed to the point of snorting.  There was a catapult designed that sent a butter container sailing.  We even tried to play a practical joke on my daughter but the couple at the next table over may have actually believed we left her there on purpose because they didn’t see us hiding behind the next row of booths and kind of blew it.
For the record, I have also rigged a toy in our home bathroom that makes a random flatulent noise whenever someone turns on the light.
But I should also add that in my constant quest to find a pinochle game, I have much more luck with a crowd of retirees.  
So if you asked me how old I really, truly am, I wouldn’t at all know the answer.  My mother would answer “ten.”  My children would answer “80.”  The internet, however, is designed for just these situations.
According to quick health-based test, I am 31 years old.
According to a quick maturity test, I’m 40.
I think these are bogus numbers, so like any person intelligent beyond her years who proudly carries cough drops, I thought I’d make my own test based on zero scientific study and that barely makes any sense.
Test A:
Do you marvel at the first flowers of spring?  
Do you like riding your bike super fast?
Do you think fireworks are really, really cool?
If you came to my house and had to use the bathroom, would you tumble out in hysterics because of the sound of turning on the light?
If you answered “yes” to any of these, you are ten years old.  Welcome to the club.
Test B:
Do you enjoy d├ęcor and buy matching throw pillows?
Do you read business newspapers?
Do you follow the latest diet trend even if it means you can’t have donuts which are, quite frankly, a ball of fried deliciousness?
Do you wear trouser socks or panty hose?
If you answered “yes” to these, you’ve got to be about 40.  Sorry.
Test C:
Do you like to play pinochle?
Do you always have a tissue handy?
If you answered “yes” to these questions, you’re just plain fabulous.


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