I am cranky.
I am sick of cat hair. I don’t know what I was thinking when I got a white cat.
I hate it when my yoga teacher rubs my scalp with fingers drenched in lavender oil leaving my hair looking like a wet dog and smelling like a sock drawer.
My gorge rises when I hear the animal noises—grunts, vocalized yawns, burps, borborygmi, snores—of others.
3 comments:
I follow your blog pretty closely because we are the same age and I just retired. I prefer re-invented. I am working on my second novel but for the most part I am retired as in retired from earning a regular pay check, talking to adults who listen to me and think what I say matters. I am now focusing (and recalling how much I hated them) on all those other jobs I was ignoring: cleaning, fetching, cooking, fetching, etc. But I don't own a white a cat- ticked torte and black dog. I enjoy your blog.
You should change yoga teachers - I've never heard of one doing that. (I'd probably like it - I love having my head rubbed and like the smell ov lavender - but I can understand it's not for everyone.)
Totally agree about the chore part, Kathleen! All those tasks I'd been putting off—now I have no excuse, but I'm still inclined to put them off. I'm impressed that you're already working on your second novel. Did you write your first one before your reinvention?
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