Nothing funny about feldspar

Is there something in our genetic makeup that kicks in when we reach a certain age that makes us keep crappy stuff because “it’s perfectly good” or “someone could use that” or “it was a gift, so it can’t be got rid of”?

Is there something about electromagnetic radiation exposure that makes us do goofy things, like complain about crappy television, but watch it every evening for 5 hours? We can’t watch during the day, because that is “just not done” — instead we read books all afternoon and miss all the good reruns.

Is there something we ingest that over time accretes stubbornness, making us think it’s perfectly reasonable to not use a cane though it would help with walking, or that there’s no need to tell the doctor that our peripheral vision is blanking out on occasion because it comes back?

What’s that you say? It’s a normal part of growing older? Oh.