Worrying Concepts

It's been a while.

Three years of a while.  I don't know where to start.

I'm older but no wiser and I am now definitely an orphan.  A real orphan.  Gone are the founts of wisdom and compassion that I unwittingly depended on.  Gone is the life I blindly thought would continue forever.  In it's place, that old imposter, maturity, demands recognition.

Slowly, the realisation that I am now in the front row for the high jump is seeping into the withering grey matter.  

This concept is a little worrying.

The lord and master (he wisheth) is retired (albeit early) and has taken to the life of ease like the proverbial duck to water.  Embarking on all manners of adventures suitable for 30 year olds, he has put a serious dent in the number of cat lives remaining to him.  Having endured this state of chassis for nigh on 3 years, I can categorically say I will be taken out of the workforce in a box.  The offspring are threatening to make a grandmother out of me which is yet another worrying concept.  I am not altogether convinced that I am suitable material for this elevated position.  Thankfully, there is a body of water between the parents to be and this orphaned soon to be nana, granny, gaga or whatever other vile names that can be conjured up to describe this dubious honour.  I have also become invisible.

Where is the serenity and contentment that reputedly comes with the sixth decade?

Is it any wonder, given the state of the aforementioned grey matter, that the Muse has not passed Go, has not collected the 200 euro and is still awaiting the Get out of Jail card?

I am now going to push the publish button because I told my sister I would and she's all I have left. Did I tell you I was an orphan?  She's an orphan too.   She understands.