Stick A Fork In Me, I'm Done

I have bemoaned my impending old-man-hood from time to time, citing the little ways I know that I'm becoming a codger well before I should. I just got my next big sign.
   I show up at the bank five minutes before it opens.
   This morning I had to deposit my paycheck - I don't use direct deposit in order to control my company's cash flow - but needed to work out first. And I woke up so early I had to wait for the gym to open, but I did that at home. I got my sweat on, slowly since I've been sick lately, and then I got in the truck and rolled bank-ward.
   Only after I was nearly there did I realize that the bank might not be open quite yet. It was ten till nine. When I got there, sure enough, the bank doesn't open until 9 AM. So I sat in the parking lot filling out my deposit slip until the nice lady opened the door.
   Two guys beat me to the door, both of them well past retirement age. I was standing in line behind white-haired geezers who had been out of the work force longer than I have been in. Yup, just me, the tellers, and two chatty old men who had probably been up three or four hours by that time.
   So had I.
   I swear, my time is shifting earlier and earlier in the day. I never have slept as long as most people - which used to concern me until I realized that's my normal - but I'm waking up earlier than I ever have before.
   Pretty soon I'll be eating dinner at 4:30 PM and trimming my ear hair before I go listen to retirees like the Rolling Stones perform their 'Before We Break A Hip' tour.
   It's not a matter of if my transformation will take place, but of how long I have before I start wearing black socks with sneakers and talking to people who aren't there. Maybe next week?