Indeed, at 62 y.o. and in a young person's job, I realized, when talking to a young female co-worker, that if I been unlucky the first time I got lucky and my offspring done the same in their own turn, any one under 27 could be young enough to be a grandchild.

Oh, all the wonderfully lovely young women at work, who came close and smiled at me. I tell you, the mild flirtation means so much—until I look in the mirror and see that they were merely stifling their giggles at my renegade nose hairs.
( tromboner cherophobia is my kind of fun, Thu 7 Jun 2012, 18:14, Reply)