Bad words, Being (over) 50 and Possible Hermit Tendencies
I’m saying bad words at work.
I’m saying words which would raise my eyebrows if I heard someone else using them.
I would be angry with my daughters for even KNOWING what these words mean.
But I’m saying them nonetheless.
In several languages.
I had a beautiful fairytale vision of growing up and becoming Nice.
I looked forward to maturing into the fine wine of patience and understanding…..
The reality? I am more like sharp, gritty vinegar. Not even a good brand…..
Strictly clearance aisle.
I suppose its working with people that is my problem. I seem to have a charcoal artists eye for people. Black or white.
No….before you start pounding out those emails (sorry trolls) I am NOT talking about ethnicity.
I am talking about good and bad. If I like (tolerate) you. Or not.
At 20 years old I was “feisty” and “sassy”.
At 30 I was busy and into Mom Speak, much like everyone else I knew. I don’t really remember having any conversations that deeply affected me one way or another. The general concern was the price of milk, fees for band uniforms and rotas for market days……
And socks. Where do socks go to die? (Cerebral we weren’t….)
At 40…..hmmm, not sure. Kind of betwixt and between
At 50? I have all the patience of a mousetrap. SNAP!
Am I alone in this? Is it just that nice people get nicer and ……
Well, you can fill in the blank.