Sunday, September 2, 2012

September issues

It's September. The summer is officially over. There's that smell in the air.

Others call it crisp autumn air. I call it death and depression. We're looking at months and months of darkness, cold, sleet, snow, rain and God knows what else; pouring frm the sky hell-bent on ruining my footwear.

No matter how hard I try to get excited the new season, walks in the parks, darkening evenings, candles and red wine I can't. I miss summer. The sun. Carefree picnics over rosé.


Even the arrival at the stores of the September issues the size of a brick fails to get me giddy. Well, that's not entirely true. I am so totally in love with my new red jeans and intend to wear them everywhere and with everything. And they'll look so fab with my new, absolutely perfect Banana Republic trench coat!



And eventually I'll get to break out my furs and all the winter coats I've been buying in a bid to make the cold just a little bit more fun... 

Though, meeting with a friend I hadn't seen for ages a couple of days ago showed me exactly how fab those red jeans  could look- provided I lost half of my lazy bum. 

Anyway... as I was sipping my way through the sour grapes we got talking about our respective mother-in-laws and apparently, unlike bums, they really only come in one size: overbearing. Now, my relationship with my own specimen of this peculiar breed has been well documented, but what is it with these people? 

First they can't wait to get the kids out of their feet to finally move on to the next chapter in their lives, then they can't seem to get enough of them! The kids never call them often enough, they never go visit them often enough, they never spend enough time with them.

And if, even when dating a 52-year-old you're not free of this parental plague... Where does it end? I have a horrible feeling that as a result of decades of thorough gin-infused pickling The Man's Mum will actually outlive all of us. And at the twilight years of my life I'll end up caring not just for The Man, but also the Mum... 

Crikey. A note to self: the absolute minimum age for the next boyfriend: 83.







1 comment:

  1. My mother-in-law is quite nice, but I still prefer having several countries between her and I ;)

    The problem with an 83 year old boyfriend is that once he's gone, you'll have to deal with a bunch of grieving children. I'd rather deal with a MIL ;)

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