Scrambling Grog

I've been in that cave for soooo long.
I must yawn and stretch and put on some kind of killer Free Trade coffee.
Something Groggy. Wow.
Everything's turned green. Somebody needs to mow this lawn. Did you bring in the paper?
Oh yea. I date myself with that question. That's telling.
I don't feel that old.
My hips?
Oh yea, they are probably twice that old. But, as for the whole unit? Not that old. Really. I can still scramble up the banks and go 40 limbs up in a heartbeat. I climb trees, I hitch-hike and I fall for anybody who can write a decent love letter.
It's like I never learned anything AND I get to be this much older. How cool is that?
I'm just stretching here.
Do you want to go for a walk?
I'll tell you a story.
mmmkay?