On getting old (not older, just old)

Out for drinks last night for John’s birthday and as is expected, the conversation meanders.  It didn’t strike me at the time, but this morning I just realised that the following exchange (now paraphrased) is indicative of how old we are upstairs now.

“I know what you mean about keeping hardwood and laminate clean, luckily I have a great vacuum. I love my Dyson.”

“You have a Dyson? Wow Dave”

“Oh yeah, It’s fantastic.  I can pull entire cats from the carpet and it never loses suction”

Are you fucking serious?  We talk about the horrors of keeping hard floors looking clean and cooing about brands of vacuum?

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