Men of a certain age

Now that I'm solidly ensconced in God's waiting room, just waiting for my number to come up, I've developed a keen eye for the tell-tale signs that moment could be drawing nigh. For instance, maybe a month ago or so I had a mishap coming in the front door. My right foot didn't quite negotiate that first step, causing, in no particular order, broken glass, a deep gash on my arm, and a question mark in my mind about how it's possible to miss a step you've successfully negotiated multiple times per day for the last 20 years. I initially put it down to the fact it was late evening and I'd had a coupla pints and a toke... but that's just a regular day, so it didn't add up. Then, just a week or so later, it happened again! Except this time at 7 am. No beer. No tokes. Just a coffee and a cigarette out on the stoop. Once again, righty didn't quite attain the first step, causing a face-plant, a broken cup, and two rolls of paper towels to mop up the coffee. Obviously, I was having an issue with my right foot being reluctant to follow instructions from my brain. So, for the first time since I was maybe two, I've been thinking about every step I take, especially the steps that require lifting righty. That understandably gets you noticing others practicing "deliberative walking," if I may call it that. All my life I've been the kinda guy who chooses to wait in the car while the Farm Manager goes shopping, and all my life that was a pleasant respite when one could watch pretty women coming in and out of the store. Now I'm watching men of a certain age. And holy sh!t, damned near everybody's obviously deeply engaged in making sure that next step lands where it needs to. Praise the Lord! I'm not the only one!