Old Dogs, New Tricks

It's hard to beat the old age inventions When our bodies refuse to meet our intentions, Those top shelf items you simply can't reach, The ones at the bottom inaccessibly deep! I can't squeeze the new leveraged grabber And the kids have confiscated my ladder, So I hook around with my old gravy ladle And catch what I can in my wide apron cradle. Stuff on the floor needs a long-handled brush, Unless it's the soup, which has turned into slush! But my old jumble drawer has come to the rescue; There at the back was my old turkey baster. A few wet rags. I tear up old nappies And scrub around with my feet 'til everything's snappy! Fertilize garden; now that is a must. No wheelbarrow for me; my balance is suss. But I'd bought a hard liner for the trunk of my car (Always hauling something from wood to crowbar.) So down with the liner, a rope through the end, Put on the bag and you've got a good sled! Dropping my highballs had become a crash scene. I'd run out of glasses and cups weren't the same. But a friend found a stein her late husband had liked And it goes along with the whiskey all right. I s'pose you invent what gimmicks you can. It's such fun dreaming up a super trick plan! Just trying to get the better, you see, Of old age that's trying to get the better of me!