Eventually, I hope to regain the use of my dining room table. Actually, if it meant that my two teens remain transfixed by the 1,000-pieced jigsaw puzzle that is in a partial state of assembly on the table and continue ignoring their electronic devices, I will be more than happy to eat standing up for the rest of my life.
Lately, I view everything through the prism of retirement. If we vacation in a new place, I envision what it would be like to live there after I retire. When I contemplate buying new clothes for work, I immediately amortize their value against the knowledge that I'll never wear them once there is no office to go to every day.
After spending Valentine's Day alone -- curled up on the couch in the fetal position downing pints of ice cream in between fits of sobbing -- the single 30-something (daughter of a) friend sought my opinion: She is considering freezing her eggs, postponing motherhood until a time down the road when she is married, she said. She asked me, 'Does that make sense?'
About four or five times a day, my home phone rings with people who say I've done business with them before (I haven't) or who say that I asked them to call (I didn't). Increasingly, it is angry-voiced men claiming to be from the IRS or some division of the government who say I owe them money (I don't).