The art of dating when you are in your 40’s is a perilous, soul destroying mission. I blame my misfortune with men on the 'fairy tale factor'... That never ending belief that love conquers all and that one day a prince will come. Reality isn't even close to the fairy tale. Especially when the prince doesn’t just come with baggage – he comes with a bitter, money grubbing ex-wife clinging to his back like a hump.
I find the office banter boring. I’m sitting in a cold break room, freezing my buns off all to the sound of people whining about work. In reality they should just be enjoying the downtime.
I am. This is the reality of my life. Boring. Mundane. The same.
And I like it.
I love Friday night; or I used to. I’d leave work about 4.30, go the 10 minutes down the highway to Oakleigh and be home! Oh I used to love it. My house was as sharp as a razor; showroom cleanliness! But of course I had no animals then; let alone the dog and 3 cats we have now!
Depends what was going on but generally, about 4.45 I’d have a glass of red in hand and be mooching around the kitchen, generally dreaming up some culinary delight!
Of course in those days I was a Project Manager living in Melbourne. Now days I’m a pleb so I just work when they want me.
Every so often, like now - sitting here with zip patients to welcome the clock is crawling… Idiots. Don’t they know it’s Friday night!!!
