All Over Me

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.

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