The Making of the Crazy Cat Lady

Last evening, as I got ready for bed, I looked in the mirror and laughed at what I saw.  My bangs, which I pulled back with a black headband, were sticking straight up.  My ensemble consisted of a tan long-sleeved tee shirt covered by a bright blue horizontal striped short-sleeved V-neck shirt, paired with my red and white vertical stripped pajama bottoms and black socks.  Classic!

I realized at that moment that I am past the point of being cohabitationally desirable.  I’ve lived alone with myself too long.  Could I really start coming home, after a ten hour day at work, only to slip into a pair of skinny jeans and Anthropologie blouse every night, open a bottle of wine and whip up dinner?  Could I relearn to pee with the bathroom door shut?  Would it be possible to sleep in a bed that didn’t have the pillows and duvet artfully arranged for my maximum sleeping pleasure? Could I give up my occasional weekend without a shower?

Yes, I am too far gone.  I am but one cat shy of becoming the crazy, bitter, cat lady.

 Now, you kids get off my lawn…shoo!