You know you're old when, if you're a teacher like me, you've been teaching long enough to have taught the first batch of kids, then taught the kids of those kids, and if I stay around another 5-10 years, I'll be teaching their grandkids.

F**k. My. Life.

You know you're old when you begin wrapping your living room furniture in plastic.

(See also: "You know you're Italian when...")

Well...does she? And do you have a phone number?

Or just get an Oktoberfest and put it into beer mode.

You know you're old when you need a popsicle stick and some duct tape to have sex.

NOTE: Splinters may be an unfortunate side effect for your partner.

You know you're old when a Led Zep pin is announced and you suddenly have to go relieve yourself.

Two years ago, we bought a tree that died two weeks before Christmas. The place let us have another one. So in the middle of December, we tossed the first tree to the curb. My neighbor was walking his dog and said, "What's with you throwing out your tree? It's not Christmas yet!" I looked at him and deadpanned, "Fuck Christmas. We're all in on Hanukkah now."

I wish I had taken a picture of his face.

Back to the kill shelter.

That's not a raise. I met her when she came to the bookstore I was working at in the 80s for a book signing. She was a royal bitch and wouldn't converse with or look at "the help."

Well, sure. There's that and the inevitable moustache.