Just for a while, wouldn't it be nice if we could shed responsibility? If worries could go away for a while? If there weren't 80 kabillion things we had to take care of?
I'd like to hide in my bedroom, sleep 'til noon, be grumpy and not face the world.
Instead, today's agenda:
Work: actually a pleasure. I'm lucky enough to love my job and the questions/issues that come up are addressable.
Dentist: My cracked tooth cannot be saved. Exact quote from dentist: "Catastrophic break."
Veterinarian: Teddy is sleepy. Extraordinarily, worryingly sleepy. Weirdly sleepy.
Obedience Class: 30 miles away in rush-hour traffic. May not get there, depending on what the veterinarian says about Teddy.
The stereotype suggests that middle-aged spinsters like me should stay home with their multitudes of cats, reading in a corner. (I was going to say "rocking chair," but that's probably a bad idea with that many cats.) Not me. My current five-year-old vehicle has more miles on it than my first, 13-year-old-vehicle did. There's always something on the schedule, something to be responsible for, someplace I have to be, go, do.
And, having written about it - I'm very grateful for all of it. Getting older is better than the alternative.
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