So I was at dinner with friends and it was mentioned that Spinstermiss has been a little quiet and withdrawn.
It is a blog from a SPINSTER folks, there's not much happening. Don't blame me! That's kind of the whole core of spinsterhood: Cute, small animals; Scratchily-written notes (today's misspelled texts) to relatives; day flowing into day with the seamless monotony of a seamless and monotonous movie...
Actually the spring was filled with sinus infections, near-misses at swine flu, and a general malaise the likes of which women used to expire from in Victorian times, generally diagnosed as "melancholia." Turns out that turning 39 was not pleasant. Really, just as unpleasant as I thought it would be. Just like the first time I had my eyebrows waxed.
There I was, just laying flat in the chair thinking, "yes, this hurts exactly as much as I'd anticipated."
And so it was with the last year of my 30s. My childless, husbandless, career stalled 30s. Poor me. Boo. Hoo.
But just over a month into it, things are warming up and maybe its the heat or the humidity, but my sap is once again rising rather than soaking into the pages of English mystery novels and bodice rippers.
Shut up. I was sick! (and i like them)