Where Did This Old Man In My House Come From?

I don't know whether I'm getting mixed signals or sending them.

I drove our sporty red Jeep Wrangler the other day, listening to the end of a book on CD. Reluctantly, I flipped stations on the radio, finally settling on Only Yesterday by Karen Carpenter. The familiar lines about pain and waiting and hope made me cry.

Then there was a commercial for a place selling catheters. I was probably the only man in town driving a cool Jeep and crying to the Carpenters, wondering whether 200 catheters a month was an ample supply.

I call my wife the "hot chick in a red Jeep," which she is, but suddenly I've become the guy who watches the Weather Channel and wonders if one of those Medical Alert devices is a good idea.

Somehow, I’m eligible for a discount at iHop, but I’m too tired to go. Carry-out Chinese and a Meg Ryan DVD appeal far more than a night on the town.

I wear sweater vests at work, not because they are so good looking, but because I get cold during the day. For some reason, the television is much too loud when someone turns it on after me.

How has this happened?

I still listen to The Beatles and watch Monty Python's Flying Circus. I still play basketball and a little tennis.

I still dance with my wife in the kitchen, and with my granddaughter all over the house. I still wear Levi's and Converse All Stars, lime green, no less, so I wonder how this has happened.

Where did this old man in my house come from?