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Op-Ed

Notes from an aging bachelor

January 14, 2022

I vacuum my dogs. What more do you expect from an aging bachelor?

Robert Kahn

By Robert Kahn

Deputy editor emeritus, Courthouse News

I’m an aging bachelor, which means I am ripe to be picked off by some young widow — and am not a terribly good housekeeper.

I say this because I just saw a fat gray mouse sprint from under the piano, take a U-turn into the kitchen and skitter under the dishwasher.

I believe I saw that mouse two weeks ago, sprinting from the dog dish to under the stove, and that mouse was not so fat then.

Note to young widows: I am not a slob. Really. I sweep my hardwood floors every other day or four, Swiffer them religiously every other Sunday — hey, it’s a day of rest, right? — and I vacuum my dogs, because they like it. They roll over on their backs, paws out, drooling heads ajar, and tell me in doggish: “Vacuum my belly, Big Boy. Go for it!” And I do.

Is there anything wrong with that? I believe not.

So listen, young widows, should you choose to apply to ••• ••••’s •••••• ••• ••••• •••••s,

(Bob: We have warned you twice about this. You cannot use your column to troll for widows and divorcées. It’s unethical. Do you know what “unethical” means, Bob? This is your last warning. HR Dept., CNS.)

All right, all right! Sheesh! I’m trying to opine (is that all right, HR-CNS?) in an opinion column (nota bene) about what it’s like to be an aging bachelor in the United States today, in 2021 2020 2022? 

Is that all right, HR-CNS? Or not?

The U.S. Census Bureau counted more than 13.4 million bachelors 69 years older in these Disunited States in the last census.

So what do you want me to do, HR-CNS? Ignore this important, aging-bachelor demographic — a wealthy crew, I might add — or stick up for them — and our readers? (Eyeroll goes here.) 

Or reduce their numbers by boring them to death?

Or set them up with young widows and divorcées?

Or what? 

Have you ever thought of the money to be made from aging bachelors, HR-CNS?

I have contacts. Here is my plan, using our standard code …•••••• •••••• •••••• •••• …  

Bob

From: HR-CNS
To: ••• ••••
BOB!: YOU @!#%^*! (etc.)
Do you have a ghost of the slightest understanding that …
(Here the messages are garbled.)

Notes from an aging bachelor
(Corrected version)

By Robert Kahn 

My house has many rooms. It’s not my father’s house (John 14:2-3); it’s my house. So don’t go all biblical on me, OK? It’s my house. I firmly believe, regardless of my marital status, that I should keep my house clean. Unlike our Members of Congress.

So, I bought this great floor-cleaning machine, a Karcher. I paid $125 for it, and man, can that puppy clean floors. I’m so proud of it I keep it in the living room by the back of the front door, so I can look up from my nap on the couch and cast a fond glance at the sleek little yellow fellow.

And do you know how many times I’ve used it since I bought it a year ago? Don’t ask.

Suffice it to say that the little, syringe-size tube of cleaning fluid that they threw in with the machine has not been used up. 

Look: I like clean floors as much as the next guy, but after cleaning them once with that wonderful machine, what’s to gain, in the universal scheme of things, from repeating the process? Will I learn anything from it? No. Will the world note or long remember what I did here? Unlikely. So back off. Laxify yourself. I’m keeping that baby clean.

Besides, the floors are all gritty now. Don’t want to sully that beautiful machine.

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