Waxing Nostalgic

Now that I'm, ahem, 60, unlike the cute gal in this photo, I find myself...

Waxing nostalgic, like the guy in this illustration. I'm not sure what he's waxing about, exactly, but he looks deep in thought, remembering a time in the past when things were simpler.

Personally, I never wore pink lace-up tennies, like the gal in this photo, but I was a little gal once...

In shiny black Mary Janes like this cutie pie in the photo, skipping along, happily, unaware of the challenges up ahead. But none of this is what I'm waxing nostalgic about. Shoe-wise, I'm not that sentimental. 

What I'm missing, longing for even, are the good ol' days when talking to humans on the phone was still a thing. An assistant somebody would answer, "Hello, So-and-So's office." And you'd say, "Hi, I'm So-and-So, calling to set up a meeting with So-and-So." "Great. Let me check her schedule." You didn't have to do this: 

Wait and wait, obsessively for an email back from So-and-So. Wait and wait for a text. I've never been good at waiting. And now I'm even worse. I thought I was supposed to get more patient with age. 

I'll drink to that, even though it's not remotely true.