Being sixty is asking yourself in the morning, can I make it to the ibuprofen? At night, while brushing your remaining real teeth, it is looking at the left-over Percodn Rx with longing.
During the day, it is asking yourself, does any of this shit really matter, and knowing the answer is no. Why bother with your glasses, since you wouldn't like it, even if you could read it.
Chuuuck Griiiimes