It’s Hard To Have Roommates

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No.2 Sis: Where’s the butter?

Me: By the toaster.

No.2 Sis: No. There’s an empty plate by the toaster.

Me: Maybe the butter’s gone?

No.2 Sis: We had two plates of butter. The clean plate and the messy plate. The empty plate is the messy plate.

Me: Is the empty plate round or square?

No.2 Sis: Square.

Me: That’s the clean plate. I finished off the messy plate a couple of days ago. Then the clean plate turned messy. And I finished that off too.

No.2 Sis: (low growl)

Me: It’s hard to have roommates. They will eat the butter while your back is turned.

I’ve been living with No.2 Sis since returning from Costa Rica 12 days ago. Besides eating all the butter, I’ve had a nasty cold. Bad roommate. Sis is avoiding me to avoid getting sick.

I have a new apartment lined up. It’s kind of cottagey, in that it has it’s own outside entrance, with a little porch. The manager told me I can plant whatever I want on the grounds near my unit. Isn’t that great? I don’t want to overdo, so I’ll start with a pot or two.

I told No.1 Sis that I was going to go without a car for as long as possible, as a money-saving measure. I lasted 8 days.

Since I loved my previous Honda, Gypsy Blue, I went to the nearest Honda dealer and started test-driving used cars. I drove a CRV (who informed me his name was Butch). I really liked him, but he had 109,000 miles on him. A little old for me.

Then I drove a 2013 Fit hatchback with 31,000 miles and the angels sang! I bought her immediately. I couldn’t pick her up for a few days though, since I didn’t think to arrange for insurance before-hand. Oops.

Insurance turned out to be a hassle. I had cancelled my policy when I went to Costa Rica, because I didn’t have a car there. Apparently, that flagged me as some sort of flake (imagine) to the insurance company, and they tripled my rate! I’ll go with Progressive for now. Thanks Flo!

I know you’re wondering what the name of the new car is. Her name is Baby. Awww!



Stay tuned…

P.S. I’m still answering salespeople and waitresses’ questions with si, and telling them gracias. That should wear off soon, right?




60 Is Right Around The Corner

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I woke up with a start this morning and sat straight up in bed. I just realized that I’m going to be 57 years old in a few days, and that means 60 is right around the corner!

For years I’ve been looking forward to 60 because I should be able to retire then. But it just hit me this morning that not only will I be retired, I’ll be old! Oh my Goddess, I don’t want to be OLD!

I hope I don’t fall into a depression. My first Great Depression was when I turned 25. I thought I’d have life figured out by 25. A quarter of a century of experience should impart some wisdom, shouldn’t it? I still felt like (and probably was) a clueless child.

My second Great Depression was at about age 37, when I realized I’d be 40 soon. I was facing 20 more years in a job that was stressing me out, I was cursed with a body that had started aching all the time, and I’d never even been to Europe! Alas and alack!

My actual 40th birthday was kind of a relief. I still didn’t have all the answers, but I finally felt like an adult. I owned a condominium, I had started putting away money for retirement, and I vacationed in Europe for the first (but not last) time.

At age 25, I had tried to picture my ideal future. I imagined myself in a cozy little cottage, with a fireplace, and tons of books on white bookshelves. I saw myself sitting alone on a little love-seat, dressed in a Chanel suit. I felt content and satisfied.

Now, at 57, I’ve been to the British Isles and continental Europe many times. I’ve even been to Africa!



I have a lovely house, that I’m still working on making into my cozy cottage. I have tons of books, but most of them are on the Kindle instead of on bookshelves. Who could’ve predicted?

I’m writing this while sitting on my charming, white slip-covered love-seat, in front of a roaring (hissing, gas) fire.

So what’s missing from my life? Nothing, except a Chanel suit. Where did that come from, anyway? I hate suits! Give me jeans and a tee shirt any day!

Ah, life is perfect, and age is just a number.

Stay tuned…

P.s. I shared this post at Chic on a Shoestring.