I think age is finally catching up with me.

Now don't get me wrong, in the back of my mind, I'm still only 25 or so at heart, but it's the rest of my body that's finally catching up with me.

That's like last weekend, I had to go to Strawberry's early, I mean five o'clock early, to help him turn a hawg.

Now that use to be nothing, I'd stay out till, let's just say late, get up and work all day. And I mean six to six at the sawmill, and still be ready to head back out the next night.

But last Saturday, about two or so, I couldn't keep my eyes open. It took a couple hours worth of nap just to get over it.

Back then five hours sleep wasn't nothing, but you know, now if you drag me out the bed before seven or eight hours, you've got a bear on your hands all day.

And that ain't all, I ain't quite hearing as good as I use to. It's not like I'm going deaf or anything, it's just that Mel and the girls will almost swear they told me something, and I don't remember a thing about it.

They'll tell me something about us having to go somewhere, and when they're getting ready, I'll pipe up with, "Where ya'll going," and the next thing I know, they're getting on me for not being already dressed.

Then the next thing I know all three of them will remind me that they've already reminded me two or three times about going to so and so.

And you know how it is, you can't argue with three women who all remember the same thing.

But explain something to me -- how is it, I can't remember we're going somewhere, but yet when they're talking about me in the kitchen, I can hear them clear as a bell.

Is it my memory or my hearing? I think it's my hearing, because any guy that lives in a houseful of women knows there's a lot of conversations, let's face it, we don't want to be a part of.

In fact, we've even got our own code word for it. I'll ask what they're talking about, and if I don't need to know, or more especially I don't want to know, they come back with, 'Woman's stuff." That's when I do what Momma use to say Daddy did when he didn't want to hear anything, he'd go into orbit.

And going into orbit is a good thing, cause some of that stuff you woman talk about, us guys, we just don't want to know about it.

Oh sure, when you first get married, ya'll feel this compulsion to share everything with your husband, but trust me, we don't feel that compulsion, if it doesn't have anything thing to do with supper, the football game, or what's on TV tonight.

Keep it to yourself. At my age, I've got more time in space than the space shuttle, and I'm content. Please don't mess with my contentment.

Another thing I've begun to notice is the way I eat. Folks, I love to eat. Meat and potatoes, and for a change I'd have potatoes and meat, or maybe some rice and macaroni and cheese. As I sit hear, I can't for the life of me remember when the last time we cooked rice around this house.

I had a salad for supper, can you believe that, I can't, and what was really funny about it, I was full.

Twenty years ago, if Mel fixed a salad for supper, my next question would have been, "What do you have to go with thisz?"

One afternoon, just after we had gotten married, she met me at the door, and she was beaming when she told me, "Guess what were having for supper, "homemade vegetable soup."

And with a smile I answered her, 'That's great Babe, fix me a hamburger," cause folks, I didn't eat soup.

Now I love it. Times have changed.

You know another thing that lets you know you're getting older, loud music.

I can be sitting in the living room and the kids in their rooms, and I can almost see the walls moving in slow motion with the music, just waving like those mirrors in a carnival fun house.

And before I can catch myself, it comes out, "For the Lords sake, turn it down."

Now the truth to be told, I don't have a leg to stand on, cause I did my folks the same way.

Now everybody from my generation knows "Smoke on the Water" can only be played when the speakers are about to blow, but these days, I can only crank it about half way.

So I do feel kinda guilty when I get them to turn it down, but my ear drums kinda out weigh the guilt.

But even with all the aches and pains of growing old, I'm not ready to start gumming biscuits.

Because in the quite of my truck, when the base line of "Sweet Home Alabama" starts playing on my I-Pod, and that lead singer will say, "Crank it up," I look around, and if nobody's looking ...

I do just that.

Robbin Bruce is an Andrews resident. He may be reached via e-mail at robbinbruce@yahoo.com, or by letter in care of this newspaper, P.O. Box 2778, Georgetown, S.C, 29442.