Goddamned cat hair. Everywhere. My clothes are often dark, and the little hairs, of course, are orange and white.
I always say I’ll lint brush it off, but I usually forget. Plus, for a curvy woman, it’s hard to lint brush certain terrain.
Hmm. I say curvy. But, am I really still curvy, or just round? I’m not sure.
Sometimes I think I have delusions of grandeur. My magic mirror and even the more honest mirror in my closet show me only what I want to see. Most photos, though, show me the exact opposite.
My most recent selfies were taken from the most flattering angles I could find.
I also know how to dress myself in ways that will flatter me.
In real life, I’m a boulder with a head.
Like I said, I’m a con artist.
I guess that’s why one of my goals is to look good naked again. That way I know that I legit look good, and it’s not all just tomfoolery.
You might say WHO CARES?!
You might be right.
Unfortunately, I care. I endlessly, relentlessly, exhaustively care.
What happens when I’m 90? Will I still care then? I hope not.
I hope I make it to 90.
Before COVID, I never wanted to get old. After COVID, I would feel blessed to become an old lady.
I was so depressed in 2020 that at one point I had entirely convinced myself I was going to die. I have the high blood pressure and some of the other risk factors they cited early on.
That’s why we started getting our groceries delivered. I was afraid to go into stores. Now it’s just hard to go back to doing my own shopping because of how convenient delivery is.
Anyway, this post is a rambler, isn’t it. Like most of ‘em, I suppose.
It’s been a rough week. I’m relieved that it’s almost over. I’m certainly feeling better, now I’m back on everything I’m supposed to be.
So, my dear friends, have an outstanding morning, a fine commute, and as always, thanks for reading.