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Tuesday, January 21, 2014

On Turning 50 OR I'll Kill the Next Person Who Says 50 Isn't So Bad

Well, there it was, a perfectly good Wednesday morning when I got woken up to "It's the End of the World as We Know It" by REM.  I can thank HIM, the man to whom I'm married and the man whose shallow grave is located in the woods out back, for that.  I got presents wrapped in black.  (A travel mug, two meat thermometers, and a subscription to The Week.  My sister sent me a pendant.  She doesn't get buried in the back yard.  The cat decided to ignore the whole thing, which was a wise decision on his part, or simply because he's a moron and didn't know any better.)

So what could I do?  I hid in the closet for the next two hours fondling my meat thermometers.  (One is digital and wireless.  I should go buy a turkey.  HIM isn't known for buying the best gifts.  I got him 50 black balloons on his birthday.  I sent them to work.  HIM has a cubicle.  I thought that was funny as hell.  My MIL mentioned this to me when I said I was less than happy about turning 50.  I said that it was funny when HIM was turning 50, not me.  The moron cat would have freaked at having 50 black balloons in the house anyway.)
I went looking for pissed off LOLs and found a lot with cats.  Apparently cats are pissed a lot.  Or they're perceived as being pissed off a lot.  I know if someone put an itty bitty hat on my head and took a picture I'd be pissed off, too.

I remember when I turned 30 and I was upset.  I don't remember 40, probably because I was 7 months pregnant and peeing every...five...minutes.  Seriously, a note to women who haven't yet had a child, you will pee every five minutes and you won't sleep more than an hour at a time and that's before you have the baby.  Just be prepared.

But 50.  Sheesh.  I depressed.  Sofa king depressed.  I will now endeavor to amuse myself.

 This looks like hairy hairless cat.  I like the message.
Look the tree is ticked.  I wouldn't cut that tree down, I'll tell you.
I suppose I should just accept it.  It's done.

And then the heat pump broke.  It wasn't 50.  I'm sure.  I hate 50.  50 sucks.  I want to be 49 for another year.

4 comments:

tienhing said...

Do you know Casey J Snoddy?

R. Mac Wheeler said...

Funny. 50 Didn't bother me.

My bad BD was 34. I don't know why, but that year depressed MAO. The whole year was a bummer.

R. Mac Wheeler said...

Oh. And btw...Happy Birthday.

Gail said...

Was afraid to wish you a happy 50th, considering your...mood, but then realized I'd by-passed 60, sooo...
HAPPY 50TH!!!
Just remember: After 40, it's patch, patch, patch.