Crazy Lady

It's like a virus eating my madness and danger and leaving a stack of freshly clipped coupons. What the hell ever happened to that mad beast drinking and staying up all night fire lipping from the ends of my hair? Never know where I might turn up or with whom. God, I was so blissfully broke and aimless there was no future. When you're planning to burn out in a few months time there's no need to save or plan. Oh, but I had to straighten up. The best of us find out we can't be? Yeh, if the best of us are the ones that manage to stay alive year from year. Debatable I suppose, if you subscribe to the good dying young theory. Then there's that pesky truism that I am still young by most accounts.
What brings on my sadness and ennui sure it must be a question we're all asking one paragraph into this. Well, you see. There's the major appliance. Adults own major appliances. Then there's the bed. It's bothered me long as I've had it. Settled people own beds-mattresses on the floor-that's more my speed. And the garden, it ain't a grand garden but it is one, nevertheless and it is sprouting and gets weeded on a semi regular basis. But that isn't the worst of it, not by a long shot. The worst is that this weekend. With 2 full days off to myself to do as I want, I decided to steam clean the carpets and rearrange the furniture.
Oh God save me, something terrible has happened to me and the only thing left is to take up knitting (which I've been thinking of doing, in order to keep my hands busy and give me an accomplishment to show off) and wearing my hair in a matronly bun. I'm doomed.
How did this happen. And anyone who says I grew up I swear I'll scream and threaten you with the jagged end of a broken beer bottle.