NO ASSISTANCE REQUIRED

Why couldn't I have a choice of homes
when I was alive?

One of the ceaselessly wonderful things about aging is receiving lots of mail -- regarding life insurance, Medicare, Social Security, and, my favorite, funeral homes. I never knew how many strangers cared about my health and wellbeing, particularly when there's money involved.

A few days back, I received a card from a New York-based "personal assistant" service. They offer, to quote their postcard, "Personal assistant for seniors who live independently, but want a little help (or don't feel like) carrying groceries, arranging transportation or dealing with errands."

Do I look like I need help,
you little bastard?

To quote Jack Benny, now wait a minute! Technically, I'm one and a half years away from seniorhood. Allow me to enjoy my remaining months of being a regular adult before I'm picked up and dropped headfirst into a new life (or near-death) category. 

Second, I actually enjoy shopping and running errands. After all, not every movie on TCM is a winner, and I need some excuse to get out of the house when I'm not working. And as for arranging transportation -- well, I once booked a round-trip flight for my mother-in-law, which proves I could open my own travel agency. 

In other words, I'm a guy, OK? I like having little projects. It helps me forget how mundane my life really is.

Tell that to my wife.

So I've got all that covered. Now, if you want to really help me, I'd be happy to give you some jobs. Like, when I've done the laundry, help me fold fitted sheets. Not that I particularly care, but whenever I find myself in the laundry room with my wife, I've got to help her do it. Otherwise, when I'm on my own, I just kind of bundle it up in a ball and hope she doesn't notice. 

You know what else I don't go for? Dusting. Don't ask me why. I tolerate cleaning the bathroom. Can put up with vacuuming. I get satisfaction from cleaning out the fridge. And for some ungodly reason, I love straightening out the kitchen cabinet. 

I knew I should've dusted this week.

But dusting? I put it off 'til the very last second of housecleaning, and then rush through it like there's a flock of wild turkeys trying to peck me to death. And it's not like we live in a mansion. If I really concentrated on it, I could knock off the whole place in 15 minutes. 

For some reason, that seems like a lifetime, and I wind up doing the living room in the time it takes to listen to whatever pop song is playing, and then skip the bedroom entirely. It's only when I sneeze from the dust build-up that I reluctantly Pledge in there. 

Then there's the TV. The good news is, now that we have a smart TV, there's no more of that damn HDMI nonsense to worry about. Just one plug into the set, and I'm good to go. Too, my wife thinks I'm a genius because I can cast a show from my Android to the TV. 

But the problem -- and it's a recent one -- is that it no longer works with HBO. Every other network is jake. But we try to watch John Oliver and suddenly it's, Sorry dear, I can't do it.

On the other hand, 65 year-old
Dennis Quaid has no problem with his
26 year-old fiance adjusting his dongle.

Do you realize how embarrassing that is for a man of my stature -- that is, the electronics genius of the house? I've searched online for a solution, but all I can get has something to do with my Chromecast dongle. 

Well listen, bub. Not only do I not have Chromecast, there's no way an assistant is going to get near my dongle -- at least not if my wife has anything to say about it, and the assistant is a young, good-looking woman. No dongle, no HBO.

No of these jobs -- sheet folding, house dusting, dongle adjusting -- appear to be in this service's bailiwick. So they're out of luck as far as my needs are concerned. 

That's really not a problem. I'll struggle on with these duties for the same reason why I walk quickly with long strides when I don't have to: I won't be able to do it forever, and I might as well do it while I can. Especially where my dongle is concerned.

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