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"
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Pass the Mucinex, please....
I am up for a while, vertical after a horizontal morning, dabbing delicately at my runny nose, waiting for the Dayquil Non-Drowsy Daytime capsules to take effect. Yes, the cowwoman has her first winter cold. Little scratchiness in the throat, snorty breathing through a new layer of mucus accumulating. Took that Mucinex, too. Great stuff. Horrid commercials. Meanwhile, the world seems to have gone on without me. I notice there are beaucoup leaves piling up out front, waiting for my attention. Sorry. I am all bundled up in my Victoria's Secret fleecy, fluffy wraparound robe (Country Collection, and on sale, to boot), still recovering from yesterday's debut at the renovated gym. They took away my weinie circuit! I wandered around the weight room, spotting a familiar machine here or there, then tried out some new ones, with spotty success. Sore in new places. Just adds insult to injury to be laid up with this $$&*$@ cold. However, it is perfect timing. No school or appointments to miss. Oh, wait a minute. It's always perfect timing. I'm retired!
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