I recently realized I had joined a club.

Not that there was any grand inauguration or anything.

Seems like it happened sort of quiet like.

I had suspicions I was soon to be inducted, but I knew my credentials were somewhat lacking.

Turns out I needed a little more time.

I think I knew, more or less, that I was knocking at the door when I realized I had joined the snooty nose folks.

And I realized that on the most everyday moment of the most everyday afternoon.

The surprise of it still surprises me.

I was in the electrical wholesale store that we use most of the time.

We’ve used it long enough now that I am getting sort of a feel for where things are and when the counter staff or shorthanded, I help along by getting some things myself.

Which means I am back in the warehouse area instead of the front.

In my defense, the warehouse area is sort of dimly lit in certain areas.

And so it was, that I realized I had assumed stink bug posture with my neck craned at a most unpleasant angle while I tried hard to focus the lower part of my glasses on the small gibberish written on a load center, that was almost on floor level.

About then, Kaleb, a young skinny buck, who usually helps me, came around the corner, and I realized the humorous sketch I presented. 

Up to that point, it seemed the decision was still out to jury as to whether or not I wore these glasses for real or just as a fashion statement.

I guess it sort of dawned in me, there in the fading light of the end of the aisle, that I must have unconsciously decided to wear them full time somewhere along the way.

Elsewise, why would I assume such a ridiculous posture and hold it long enough for it to imprint itself in anybody’s mind?

But it seems the advantages have outpaced the disadvantages.

For one thing, the gallery on my phone is decidedly less voluminous than it used to be, mostly because there are very few pictures of other gibberish that was just too hard to read without snapping a pic of it and quickly blowing it up so I could read it.

It is kind of sad, though, not to be able to be free of sweat splashed glasses by merely not having to wear any at all.

On the other hand, the sweet daughter says these frames do make me look younger.

But she is too kind.

The thing that cemented my fellowship in this club happened the other day.

I was buying my third pair of jeans.

The other two must have been sewn with different measurements than I am used to.

The waistline acted like it measured 30 inches instead of 32.

Finally, though, on the third try it dawned on me that I would have to make provision for the different measuring process.

The solution seemed so simple.

Go up one inch.

And just like that, I was good to go. 

Well, they do seem a bit saggy by the end of the day, but I’m sure it is because the waistline has stretched with wearing and not that certain other elements have sagged a bit as the day wears on, forcing them lower and lower.

Even though, for some reason, I tend to see about 3 inches of jeans that have nowhere else to go other than under my feet. 

They must have changed the measurement process on the length of the leg also.

It’s frustrating; I stayed loyal to that waistline measurement for the better part of 20 years.

I think I’m a member of the club, albeit a junior one.

Written in Scooters and Dallas Ft. Worth Airport