You know that you are an Old Coot when:
You sit on a rocking chair and can't get it going.
Your knees buckle but your belt won't.
Your back goes out more than you do.
You hear a Beatles' song from your youth on the Muzak in the elevator.
Everything hurts, and what doesn't hurt doesn't work.
Your little black book contains only names ending in "M.D."
You can't wait for Baskin-Robbins to market an oat-bran ice cream.
You know all the answers, but nobody asks you the questions.
The gleam in your eye is from the sun hitting your bifocals.
You sink your teeth into a steak, and they stay there.
You need glasses to find your glasses.
You know what LSMFT means.
You finally reach the top of the ladder and find it leaning against the wrong wall.
You're still chasing women, but can't remember why.
Your mind makes contracts that your body can't meet.
The little gray-haired lady you help across the street is your wife.
