Is This What Happens When You Get Old?

Oh. My. God. We are old and we cannot help ourselves. I feel as if I'm living in a nursing home and I'm not even collecting social security yet.

Here's the story: three girlfriends (and I use that term with exceptional looseness) and I are planning an outing. (I never used to call these things outings, but now it seems unfortunately appropriate. So sad.)
Anyway, we're mostly doing the coordinating via email (thank god or I'd have no cell phone minutes left). One of us, L., lives in the Lincoln Square area and that's where we're headed. The rest of us live downtown. Two do not own cars. No problem, we can get anywhere by public trans. But, aha! M. owns a car and offered to drive. Perfect!
You'd think. But no...
So G. emails everyone and says, "Thanks, M., for offering to drive. That's nice. Or we can take the train. If we take the train it'll take about 40 minutes, if we drive it'll take maybe 30. Whatever everyone else wants to do is fine with me." Then M. (I'm changing the initials to protect the old) hits reply all and says, "Oh, I'm happy to drive. Or we can take the train. Either way is fine with me."
G. hits reply all and says, "Should we meet at 5:45 or 6:00? Does anyone have a strong opinion about driving or train?"
Really??? Why would we want to take two trains if we can take one car?
So I reply all and say, "Okay, I'm settling this. Thank you M. for offering to drive. We will take you up on your kind offer and meet in the lobby at 5:45."
Done.
You'd think. But no...
This a.m. (our outing's this evening) there's another flurry of emails regarding the condition of the roads and the sidewalks and parking and if we should go to L.'s house first for a glass of wine (the original plan) or just meet at the restaurant due to the weather. I am looking outside as I read the latest email and I'm thinking, "What fucking weather?"
Three, four emails later with everyone expressing an opinion and then ending with, "Whatever everyone else wants to do..."
Oh, blah, blah, blah. Jesus. One plan. One email with the details. Done.
You'd think. Used to be that way when I was young. I long for those days.
So I reply all and say, "Ladies, let's leave it as planned. M. will drive, we will meet in the lobby at 5:45 and go to L.'s for a glass of wine and then we'll walk or drive to the restaurant. Done. Quit with the emails. xo, Sam."
Will that be the end? Doubtful. Especially if, god forbid, a snowflake falls.
I don't have the patience for getting old. I'm not going there.
If they start talking about arthritis or their latest colonoscopy when we sit down to eat I will run screaming from the restaurant.
And hope I don't fall on a snowflake and break a hip.