Just when I was about ready to give up on humanity, the feisty old broads showed up.

I was in the ladies’ locker room at the swim club, minding my own business, when I overheard three retired women—the kind who’ve stopped caring about social niceties and started telling the truth.

Lady #1 asked Lady #2,

“Hey… what day is this? Is it Friday?”

Lady #2 didn’t even look up.

“Who the hell cares what day it is? We’re retired. It’s not like we’re waiting for the weekend. Every day is Friday… or Sunday… or whatever day you want it to be.”

Lady #1 considered that.

“True. But if your doctor asks what day it is and you can’t answer correctly, they’ll diagnose you with Alzheimer’s.”

Lady #2 shrugged.

“Who the hell gives a shit.”

At that moment, Lady #3—still dripping from water aerobics—jumped in with the energy of someone who has absolutely nothing left to prove.

“I don’t care what day it is,” she announced. “It’s margarita time.”

She paused, stretched her back, and added:

“Ain’t retirement a bitch?”

I sat there trying not to laugh out loud.

Three women. Three philosophies. One universal truth:

Aging may take your schedule, your patience, and your cartilage—

but it sure doesn’t take your attitude.

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© Jeanie Elizabeth — All Rights Reserved