Arming myself

by little red pen

So, a midlife crisis feels horizon-ish, not alarmingly or urgently so, but just there, hovering on the edge of my vision. At the moment, it’s manifesting itself as three white hairs, a vague restlessness, a niggling frustration at the non-fabulousness of my career, and a big twitching ache when I see anything about Paris, Mediterranean islands, good food or extraordinary writers.

I can cope with all of this, NO PROBLEMS, but in the library today I decided some extra bolstering might be in order. I came out with Peta Mathias, Primo Levi, Gertrude Stein and Anna Wintour. I CANNOT imagine what sort of a time I might construct in my 40s from this lot, but it’s got to be fun trying.