You know, I remember when microwaves were unheard of and thirty minute cardboard and asphalt frozen pizzas out of the <gasp> oven were the rule. Also “teevee” dinners that you swore were boxed up in Transylvania, and contained actual Transylvanians…

So, when you’re waiting for your food to nuke, O Young and Innocent Ones, do you tap your foot anxiously, waiting for the interminable forty seconds to go by?

Don’t mind me — my cousins sent me birthday gifts with wrapping paper that had Egyptian figures with the caption, “Happy Birthday, O Ancient One.” I aspire to stand on my porch with the sleeveless undershirt on over my flannel pants, suspenders hanging down by my pockets, yelling, “Get out of my yard!” Thinking of everyone as “whipper-snappers” gets me through the average Monday!