I have a mammogram every other year
Post menopause, and past having kids, I hope, I still go regularly for my pap smears and mammogram, but now, I do them every couple of years (as recommended). Believe me, Ladies, this is not something you should skip, ever.

I go to bed early
As in, I mean, by 10:30 pm every night. Nothing to do with a pandemic and everything being closed, and more to do with a change in life-style choices and, as I’m not as young as I once was, I no longer want to go out late at night. Doesn’t matter if I’m reading a good book, I’m in bed by 10:30.

Tax returns are a breeze
No, really. After doing them for, well, too many decades, it’s become almost rote. And, after all, now you can upload software, go through it step by step, and, of course being semi-retired, it really is easier to do at this age than in years gone by. Thank god for getting older.

I have savings
Yes, thank you pandemic. I no longer go outside, or shop (even online) so guess what? That every day latte, or lunch out money is now resting in a high interest savings account and accruing me enough for, I hope, another holiday in Europe. Or, at the very least, a small nest egg and financial buffer for future things to come.

My bank is a Co-op
Yes, I own part of my own bank. Well, I’m a paid up member and can buy shares, if I want. I can even participate in elections for said bank. The advantages are numerous with this arrangement, but also, like any bank, it can have its downside. Usually fees.

I’m old enough to not give a fuck
Yep, you bet I no longer give a nickel what most strangers think. I’m living my own life, my way without hurting anyone else. And if how I live my life offends you in any way, then you’re the problem not me.

I haggle
And you should too. Being my age though probably has its advantages. When I bought the new bed I haggled with the salesman about pricing and then, got quite a substantial discount. I think I wore him down and he just wanted to get rid of me. I did the same thing buying a series of carpets. I was buying several for the new apartment, so yes, I wanted to get the best price possible.

And yes, I complain
If I’m paying for something, I have a certain set of expectations, especially with equipment like white goods for the house. And if they fail to meet expectations—like not lasting past 3 years for example—you bet I’ll complain and demand to know why or ask for a replacement.

And you, do you Adult with the best of them?

I try to keep my life simple and, for the most part, it works. I have my routines that, if not followed, end up leaving me out of sorts and yes, even grumpy sometimes. And no, that’s nothing to do with my no longer drinking coffee—something I had to do cold turkey on orders of my doctor. You wouldn’t have liked me during those first few days/weeks … oh boy, no.

But where was I? Oh, yes, routines. I get up at roughly the same time every morning, 7:45, when my iWatch quietly chimes at me. And yes, it’s enough to wake me. Most morning I step in the shower even before I brush my teeth. It’s the one thing guaranteed to wake me up. I have something of a leisurely breakfast compared to most, including the OH, who never allows enough time to get themselves organised before heading out the door for work.

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I don’t know about you, but I have a terrible habit. One I’ve had since I was knee high to the proverbial grasshopper. I name things. And who doesn’t, right?

I mean, I name just about everything. What started with teddy bears and the like, moved to other things growing up till I hit adulthood and then? It moved from favourite childhood toys to grown-ups toys, namely, phones, fridges, cars. You know what I mean. Go on, you do it too, don’t blush. We all do it to a certain extent.

Phones have become the most inventive of the nomenclature I’ve started and has been wildly fun over the years. What started simply as Mister Beep, my first phone, moved swiftly to Noisy Parker, and then, my first flip phone—and oh how I loved that Nokia phone and that feeling I had just arrived on the set of Star Trek!

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Don’t you just love that awkward feeling when you stop and ask Siri what the temperature is outside and then, realise with dismay that, you’re in the kitchen and Siri is in the bedroom …

You would think at my age, I would have figure out by now what I want to do with my life. But nope. I have yet to grow up significantly enough to worry about stuff like that.

I am, after all, the age of my shoe size.

Forever 8. 🎈

I thought to add a few thoughts on what comforts me, especially on a wet dreary day like today, things like:

• My partner, who I’ve been with through thick and thin (though it’s true, neither of us is pretty thin these days) but 26 years, and counting, we still haven’t murder one another (yet!), so I have to say they’re my biggest comfort in life.
• A comforting cup of hot cocoa, except, I can no longer make one with milk (intolerant) or any plant-based derivative (salmonella outbreaks) something I will miss this coming winter (no, not the salmonella, the comfort of a milky drink).
• Music is another comfort I use especially if I’m feeling out of sorts. And not the usual pop, no, I turn to the classics or my go-to music, opera. Yes, you wouldn’t think to look at me that I’d be an opera buff, but I am, but in an amateurish way. I don’t super geek out on different singers, but I am partial to Callas, of course.
• I also find a lot of comfort and solace in old black and white movies, especially those from the 40s and 50s, and the old Ealing comedy classics. A lot of which I used to watch, as a kid, with my mother. It’s something that ties me to her, and my childhood.
• Singing, yes, I know, it’s like loving the opera. What, you say, she sings as well? However out of key it might be, I enjoy singing and yes, you guessed it, opera. Not that I always know all the words or sing them in the right key, but hey, who the hell cares? What, the neighbours? Probably. Singing is not only one of my guilty pleasures, it lifts my spirit.
• And finally, there’s nothing like going to bed early and curling up with a good book, or listening to the radio, or just snuggling into the blankets and forgetting about what’s going on in the world.

And you, what brings you the most comfort?

There are so many things I want to be writing about, so many things I shouldbe writing about but … apathy grips me like indecision as, in the back of my lizard brain, my mind is screaming, ‘No, no don’t do it, don’t go down that road, don’t start getting political and writing about the things you care about. You know what will happen … and it’s not pleasant!’

And reptile brain is right. I’ve been down that road before and, not only suffered burn out, going up in flames but, as a result, I dropped out of blogging altogether for several years. So much so, I hardly recognised it when I finally did return.

Never mind that blogging about things I cared about brought out the vitriol … no, not from me, but others. Others who felt threatened by my world view and what I had to say. That kind of vitriol doesn’t just burn, it becomes all-consuming in it’s destruction, like a run-away grass fire.

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We must accept the fact we are all flawed human beings and that it’s these very same flaws that make us who we are, as individuals, unique in character and being. Instead of trying to change our perceived flaws, we should celebrate who we are and not shy away from being us.