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 |    My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon. |
| PROMPT May 7th Start your entry today with the words: “I used to believe...” I used to believe I had the world by the tail. The world was my oyster. Yes, yes, that's it. I saw myself as a luminescent pearl displayed for all to worship. The world was my playground. I had the world at my feet. The sky was the limit. Okay, I think you get my drift. Whew, there are a great many of these phrases. Once I get started... Once upon a time I could turn heads. All eyes would be focused on me as I flounced, or sashayed, or swept into a room. Oh, I heard the naysayers mutter that I seemed to have a high opinion of myself, who did I think I was the Queen of Bathsheba? But they still stared. So what if not everyone bowed before me. I had their attention as it should be. I almost shivered with delight when conversation ceased abruptly and animated gestures froze in mid air. I smiled when cups of tea crashed to the floor, or board game pieces scattered. Sometimes, I heard gasps and low whistles. People parted before me. They would scramble to make a path. They didn't hesitate to scoot over on the couch, or push another body onto the floor. I interpreted this as an invitation to join them. I could and did alter the tone of conversation by simply tilting my head, or stretching. I never really had to gaze into anyone's eyes. My mere presence seemed enough, feigning interest, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular. I admit I felt pampered, spoiled even. I never had to lift a finger to care for myself if I so chose. Massages and hair brushings were spontaneous. I never worried about the state of my nails. Meals just magically appeared and they were plentiful. For long rapturous, uninterrupted periods of time I luxuriated in the absence of noise. No kerfuffles, no hullabaloos, no raucous music and no raised voices. No activity snatched away my serene meditation. I achieved Zen-like states. I used to believe in the sanctity of my home, my oasis. Then something known as Covid-19 invaded and obliterated my life as I knew it. The family is always here, inside, in each other's faces. They never leave. From the moment they rise in the morning to the blessed moment they retire for the night, the peace is shattered. Computers hum non-stop. The tap tap grates on my nerves. The television blares. Video games screech and beep. Squabbles erupt in the kitchen. The refrigerator door has developed a squeak. The caterer is derelict. My meals are often late. Would it be asking too much to provide a clean dish? What happened to my favourite food? I think I'm experiencing hunger pangs. Did the world suddenly lose all fresh water? Now, I am forced to squawk to announce my arrival in a room. I find myself brushing up against any one, a leg, an arm. I've even tried head butting and swatting. Does anyone appreciate how uncomfortable a keyboard is ? Who else resorts to sprawling across it to cease those confounded keys? I'm not the least bit apologetic. Those papers and ledgers splayed across the desk are taking up valuable lounge space. I had to toss them to the floor. Has no one followed the sun beams around this house? Am I the only one who fully appreciates them? Not that you noticed, but I nibbled on a few of the leaves of those straggly things on the window sill. I'm the first to admit I don't have a green thumb, but a few bits of those plants tasted a tad dry. I displaced a wee bit of the soil looking for water, too. Wow, you came running. I believe I can stop my caterwauling now. First, let me assure you I despise acts of drama as much as the next feline, but this is beyond neglect. Where are your standards? Have you no pride? I used to believe the bathrooms of this house were adequate if not gleaming. Do you not see the copious lumps in my litter? How much of a picture must I paint? I demand that you do something immediately. You are here all the time, aren't you? I used to believe I was safe at home. |
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