Hopping

I am of an age where, on a regular basis, I’m forced to contemplate my age.  But I’m not old.  Not by the Hopping Standard, anyway.

I’ve decided that I’m young so long as I can don my trousers standing up, hopping from one foot to the other.  When I have to put my trousers on sitting down, I shall be old.

So yaaaaah to you, young punks of the world!  I am still your peer.