Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
"We Three"
Monday, March 05, 2012
It's the end of the world as we know it...
Well, holy validation, Batman! I am actually right where I am supposed to be. A friend (not a real close one, just one of those I found when I was trawling for friends on Facebook, back when I thought there was a contest about how many friends one can have) posted the Hospice Grief Wheel. After Shock and Protest (which were actually the fun stages) comes Disorganization, where I am stuck at the moment. It includes apathy, loss of interest, disorientation, anxiety, confusion, impatience, and a feeling of unreality. Yep, that's me at the moment. Total lumpsucker mode. Remember the lumpsuckers, these poor little fat fish that kind of bounce along the bottom because they can't swim very well? That's moi. It is 11:30 AM, I am sitting here staring at the computer screen, in my PJs still. No plan for the day. Nada. Zipididoodah. I suppose that is just fine, actually. Oh, mother is giving us kids (67, 64 and 62 year old kids, that is) some $$$, yay. My plan, get a new puppy. I know I am not well because the whole thing has me bound up in fear. But that is the plan, anyway. Fluffy little boy. Bingley. More later.
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