Don't stop having those sorts of conversations, they're some of the best. Even if they have no "Value" in the context of the world that judges us against economic factors and productivity, I am happiest when I am engaging in such discussions, because, not only does it help me "Rebel" against that system and structure, by "Wasting my labours", but it also gives me greater fulfilment, happiness and less existential dread.
See, us talking to each other, age does not exist. It's one of the things I love about Hive - we really forget about things like age, mostly, because we are engaging with people's ideas. I love it here so much.
The underlying irony of the community this is posted in though, excluding a younin' like me from posting stuff from my yet-to-purchased walking frame. :P
You know, in the last few weeks the palliative care team brought Dad all the support - walking frames, sticks etc etc. He always said he'd 'never fucking use them' and when I was taking the piss out of the poor bugger he mock whacked me with the walking stick we were trying to get him to use. But nah, he got by, just by holding onto furniture. Then he fell, and never got up again, having fulfilled his promise of never fucking using those fucking things.
I'd much rather be beligerent enough to carry the bedside table around the house with me, claiming it were my walking stick, then use one. But hey, I have used one - when my piriformis / hamstring has flared it the past. Now that I am back in the gym, doing strengthening and mobility for the muscle groups around it (and have an ergonomic seat, and a much more ergonomic car, I've not had a single relapse!)
But that bedside table, it WAITS for me to misuse it as a walking stick. Its sturdy too, as a chair, has my underwear, so when I shit myself, I can change that quickly too.
Can't believe my mother was gonna dump these bedside tables.