On a lighter note, nothing beats spending the afternoon (Father’s Day and their 54th wedding anniversary) with your parents in a dreary, rundown warehouse filled with sad, lonely people in various stages of decrepitude who are tended to by worn-out, apathetic employees who have learned to ignore their charges even when sitting face to face with them. It’s great to watch as they’re spoon fed, as they gibber not-so-quietly to themselves or stare blankly at things only they can see. And you remind yourself not to let yourself get to this stage because, if you do, you will have absolutely no reprieve. No children to take you out, no spouse to come visit, Nothing to do but gibber to yourself and stare blankly at the walls, or, if you’re lucky, whatever show someone tunes the television to. With no hope of anything more. Ever. The end.