The petty indignities of the aging process have been well catalogued. While we should be grateful to have avoided the alternative, we boomers never tire of lamenting the first-world nuisances of the golden years. So I was prepared for my own arthritic knees, failing hearing, wonky back—even the fact my sleep patterns have devolved into a nightly progression of seriatim two-hour naps.
But no one warned me about the most embarrassing consequence of my advancing years. No one told me I would start watching Home and Garden TelevisionFN:1.
