Lets discuss driving, shall we? We may as well discuss driving because my goddamned diet has been in a bit of a holding pattern. Have I relapsed on Funyuns? Have I bought even one Boston Market pure sodium, mysterious meat like product frozen dinner? Have I eaten an entire bag of m&m's in one sitting? no. I have adjusted quite well to my new eating habits and have not gained or lost a goddamned thing. I am temporarily out of stock of stick butter. I'm too lazy to walk the dogs, and too distracted by the number of things that seem to be breaking, leaking, creaking and otherwise falling off recently. If I had a penis, I'd be checking it several times daily. I'm just sayin'.
So back to driving. I decided to listen to the weather forecasters and drive in to Frederick for coffee with Vicki. I was assured by the TV people who make an assload more money than I do, that the "intermittent snow showers" would not begin until the "afternoon" Silly me for not realizing that what that really means to us regular folks is blinding, blowing snow causing zero visibility, starting anytime it fucking feels like it". I'll know better next time.
Vicki and I are laughing and chatting away, oblivious to the snow event occurring outside. Once I see the snow, I know I need to get my bald tires home. "Just take it slow" Vicki says reassuringly. I promise to call when I reach home, or from whatever ditch has my name on it and off I go. Taking it slow is not a problem for me. The older I get, the slower I go. I swear I drop 10 mph off my comfortable driving speed for every month my period decides it's too tired to come. Menopause is a bitch.
So I'm cruising along at 40, thinking that it's just about the perfect speed no matter what the road conditions. I'm doing my standard, anxiety reducing singing which today included a medley from "West Side Story" "tonight...tonight...won't be just aaaany night....la la la la la laaaa la la laaaaaa" and "I feel pretty.....oh so pretty....la la la la la laaaaaa" Yeah....words have never really been a priority in stressful situations.
I'm happy. I have an excuse to drive slow. I let all the big, two-story, testosterone enhancing trucks with 30 inch wide tires for the man who has everything but a functioning penis blow on past me. I'm singing.....I'm driving slow.......I no longer have a regular menstrual cycle....I'm thinkin' I'm gonna be just fine.........and I was.
I think back to the summer when Hilary, who never lets me drive anymore, begged me to at least go the speed limit. I had a vision of myself barely able to see over the steering wheel, pulling in to oncoming traffic from the wrong lane. Hopefully by the time that happens, I'll be a retired weather forecaster who can afford someone to drive me where ever I need to go.
.........won't be just aaaanyy night....la la la la la laaaaaa la la la.....
What was I saying?
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