They Say That Time Goes By Faster When You're Old But As Usual They Go On To Say Too Many Other Things That Are Even Duller Than That

BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND

So I checked as many obituary lists as I could find, looking for those of you who used to read my blog, just to see if you were still alive, worried as I was about my stats and followers.  I came up with nothing so I know you're still out there.

You can rest assured that even though have been away from this blog for a very long time absolutely nothing has changed.  I am still wardrobe challenged, still quit things regularly, except the stuff that I should.  (Don't worry.)    I am still just as directionally challenged as ever, and I still  never let that  stop me from giving other people directions.  Only now I occasionally do it on purpose. And I care about things that not many others would. Or could. And things I should care about I usually let someone else worry about.

So, wow. Where did the time go?  Every old person in the world will, if you appear even mildly interested,  tell you that time goes by faster when you are old.  They will also tell you that you won't have as much hair on your legs and armpits too, if you let them, and honestly the conversation can really start to go downhill after that so best that you do not appear that interested and change the subject before its too late.  Bodily functions are next on the agenda, trust me.

Yes, it is true that time goes by quickly but I'm here to report that while in general life zips by at  breakneck speed, the stuff that you  have to endure, the mandatory, contractual, obligatory, the brain-numbing, hang-yourself types of situations where you swear you can feel your life force oozing from the pours of your skin, when you see with your third eye once in a lifetime opportunities passing you by, the times when you know with absolute certainty,  without a single shadow of a doubt that it is not only absolutely possible to but completely probable that you will die of boredom - these moments last even longer, and the only thing that doesn't last is your ability to survive them intact.  As it turns out, your life force can leak out when you're old.  (I think they make some sort of sanitary pad for that though, so always carry one with you to avoid embarrassment.)

And that, my friends,  is why I don't answer the phone anymore.

Answering the phone increases the possibility that I will find myself invited to something dull or committed to going to or doing something that will shorten my life by a certain amount which can and should  be measured by using Princess Stupidhead's Life Force Leakage Meter.© For me, this includes but is not limited to stage shows and operas, long car rides without destinations, listening to REM,  and working off-season in seasonal business establishments. You may think this is an irrational fear, but when we reach a certain age there is really no acceptable amount of life force that can be lost without some side effects, which usually present as something completely noticeable and humiliating. I'm not kidding.

Anyway, I'm back.   When we last spoke, we had moved from the big city to the small country town and for a while I thought that there were no stories left to tell.  Ha. Funny.

In small towns there are stories, lots of stories, the names changed of course, because many people have the same names and so it could get confusing.  Life is less complicated here, sometimes infuriatingly so.  But at least my toilets work so far and it doesn't take 45 minutes to drive 3 miles. No, no, there are way more interesting situations to explore...

So I am hoping that I'm not going to be one of those bloggers that announces her return only to post one lonely pathetic post before returning to the Land of the Lost Posters.   But then, you know how I am. 

You just never know with me.  That's the thing.