I was reading about perimenopausal women in a great book. Okay, if I haven’t lost you yet, I learned something about this over self-analytical bunch. I should be leader of the club. The secretary for life. The VP minister of kwan.
One of the things this woman, who BTW, looks like one of those Chico’s models–you know the type. Short steel-gray hair, groovy worldbeat clothes, etc. Wait, let me go on further about the stereotypes I’m trying to avoid. Know the bone-density medicine commercials where the women are doing tai chi outside? Or they take nice walks together–who the freak are these women. I don’t know anyone who looks like that.
Okay, back to this “Wisdom of Menopause” bullshit. The writer talks about women my age *cough* getting a little obsessive about cleaning, tidying around the house, making sure things are just right. Hmmn. I’ve fallen into a very rigid routine. I clean right after work on Friday. It gives me the heebie jeebies to skip this. Then it’s a seafood feast. I must cook a certain kind of meal on Sunday or really feel lost. The cat food bowls must be scrubbed every night before I can think of going to sleep.
And of course, there are the CDs. A constant source of stress with my husband. He opens the cases, pulls a few out, leaves them out. How dare he! What is he thinking? What’s going to happen to the universe–surely the apocalypse is around the corner from all this CD case laying about nonsense!
Crickey, when did I get to be such a stick in the mud? Maybe the book is right, maybe it’s hormones. Blasted little devils.
I’d take time to smell the roses, but damn it, they need trimming and mulching first.