The answer to that is no, I don't. I am especially verbose when SH is gone because he is the usual victim of my verbal diarrhea. But this week, I had nobody to talk to except the cats and they don't speak English. And my friend Lois, with whom I went to see the play "Picnic" (free! I won tickets) on Thursday night. And my friend Michelle.
And the nice lady at the insurance company, who agreed with me that it is not unreasonable to pay $20 to spend half an hour with someone who spent four years in medical school and that neither a broken toe nor anything where you wait a few days and then think, hmmm, maybe I should have this looked at and I don't feel like calling my doctor warrant an emergency room visit.
And the lady from the census, who called to ask me what my race was really because apparently, "human" is not the answer the US Census is seeking, but who didn't push me when I said hey, if we're post-racial and trying not to make everything about race, let's start with the government, who does not need to know what color I am when I apply for a marriage license or enroll to take Portuguese at the Miami Public Schools night school program or when I apply for a mortgage with a credit rating of 820 and a 50% down payment.
But yeah. Nobody to talk to. But you guys. And I am so grateful that you read and leave comments so thank you.
So what did I want to say?
Oh yeah. I've done some hard things this week. Things I did not want to do. Things that are an admission of defeat. But I am about to move into the 46-50 bracket and I guess it's time to accept certain realities.
1. I got bifocals. Which I should have done a year ago when my sister asked why didn't I just get them already and I told her to Shut Up she didn't wear glasses so what does she know? Just out of spite, I didn't get them then when I was getting new frames and have spent the year since lifting my glasses up when I'm in the grocery store and need to read a label or the receipt or to sign the credit card slip. Which is a pain in the neck. So I got them. I got the lineless kind, but I know. It's kind of like going up a size in your underwear (and not the bra, which NEVER happens to me -- I gain from the bottom and lose* from the top). There's no reason to wear underpants that are too small. Nobody but you knows the size. So just wear something that doesn't give you a muffin top and legs. But you still know.
2. I gave away the rest of my business suits. It's been four years since I lost my job (or, as LPC says, misplaced it). Nobody wants me. I'm not going to get hired. And even if I were, my suits would no longer be appropriate because 1) nobody wears suits any more and 2) life with SH has been berry, berry good to me, if you know what I mean, as we sit here with our Saturday morning omelets heavy with cheese and my uncle's venison breakfast links and with our post-omelet chocolate-espresso tart.
As I am completely unemployable, I better make sure this marriage lasts, because SH cannot afford two alimonies and I don't even think they give alimony much any more. Maybe we'll up the life insurance. Just in case this leg thing goes bad.
* This looks wrong to me, probably because so many people on the interweb spell it "loose," as in "Are you going to loose your job?"