Getting older

This morning I went to write the number of the replacement battery that I need for my watch on my hand.
It has been running slow for a while, and alas, finally, it has stopped.

Wise writers often mention how aging sneaks up on you. It's not like you wake up one morning and realise that you are old. It is more that there are pressure points along the way, key events that ease you into the sense that you are closer to death than you are to birth. For some it is playing sport, for others it's being addressed formally by younger people, hair beginning to fall out a couple of strands at a time.
For me it was writing a replacement battery number on my hand. I remember when doing so was not such a problem. It was like writing on wet paper, a little flexible but taut and strong. Today's experience though was more akin to writing on a loose linen sheet, or even crepe paper. As soon as I applied the pen, my skin folded and stretched in opposition to the pen. I guess its a composition of sun damage and loose aging skin.
A sad day indeed.