I suppose I have more points of reference with those of my own age, but my situation is peculiar in that the range of folks that roll through here with whom I’m compelled to interact is enormous. The grandsons and their pals, my kids, and their friends, my relatives and their kids. And then there are the wife’s girlfriends, who all behave as though they were18. The damned house needs a turnstile, and the grocery bill around here would sustain Oxfam. I’m going upstairs this minute to grump at whoever’s turn it is to eat me out of house and home. The wife and her girlfriends have taken to guzzling my wine. The wife has them convinced that I’m no threat and merely a stray pet adopted by the youngest grandson. Last week, when the cackling was particularly loud, I went upstairs to discover a doggie dish with my name on it holding a couple of tablespoons of wine, and placed on the kitchen counter! No respect!