If you’re of an age when you can clearly remember World War II, you will have noticed the world is changing very fast these days.
As soon as you learn how to do something on your computer, lo and behold, they change it.
I had some nifty little games I played that now need a kind of flash player my computer doesn’t support. So goodbye to that form of time wasting.
I loved my first cell phone, a dear little pink one that flipped open and did nothing but send and receive calls.
But I must admit I like my new one better.
It tells me the weather, shows me my latest emails and even has a few games I can play while waiting in my doctor’s office.
I hope some genius is not brewing up a lot of improvements for a phone that already suits me just fine.
And unlike my children, I am keeping my landline. There’s something reassuringly substantial about that black box that takes messages in an efficient way and beeps to alert me.
I am willing to go along with many changes in dress compared to twenty years ago—such as men rarely wearing ties. Or how about people attending church in outfits that would once have been considered suitable for a country picnic?
My own wardrobe is much less formal than it used to be, and that suits me just fine.
But every now and then, along comes an unexpected change that sets you back on your heels.
In this case, I started noticing my bathmats were getting deplorably shabby and needed replacement. No problem, I thought.
All my linens are white, so I just had to go to the store and pick up some new mats. That was my plan.
But my usual source of bathroom items had not one example of what I’d call a bathmat. You know what I mean, don’t you? A rectangle of white cotton, smaller and thicker than a towel that you hang over the edge of your bathtub. Nope. They didn’t have a single one of that description.
They had piles of bath rugs with rubber backing, all different colors and sizes. Some of them were really handsome. But could you put them in your washing machine every week along with your towels? They didn’t look as if they could handle that.
I repaired to the catalog where I got my last set of monogrammed towels. What did they offer? Bath rugs, plenty of them, all sizes shapes and colors, all with rubber backing. I began to feel like Alice when she went down the rabbit hole.
Where was I when someone waved a wand that whisked away all those good old bathmats?
I am aware that this is hardly a domestic crisis.
In a pinch, I can fold up one of my towels to do double duty as a mat. It’s just a symptom of changing times, like stores closing and forcing you to order stuff online that you have to mail back if it isn’t right.
So take a deep breath, seniors and face forward.
We’ve gotten through many difficult times. We’ll weather this bump in the road as well.