Crazy Catless Lady

Summer gives me extra time to think, which for me--frankly--can be dangerous. At minimum it is unnecessary. I think enough already. At family get-togethers I think, thank god I don't have to put kids through college. Immediately after I think, but who is going to take care of me when I'm old? Driving down the road, a ballad makes me wonder if I should try on line dating again. Then I remember you can't feel chemistry through a computer, so I laugh and sing along.

And on it goes. Opposite thoughts--positive, negative; hopeful, resigned; serious, lighthearted. Gemini twins battling in my head.

My truths are equally polar.

I still wish to find someone with whom I can spend the rest of my life. Statistically, he will probably come to me divorced and with children. I am both prepared for and okay with that. I have my own history as well: a break-up after seven years that felt part amicable divorce, part mourning. No alimony or custody agreements, but a broken heart nonetheless. I will share with The (Next) One stories of love and learning and loss, and we will grow old together.

But then, as I sit by the pool for the fourth hour, knowing there is a pile of laundry in my bedroom that needs washing and a pile of magazines on the floor by my coffee table that I will continue to walk around for a few more days before I recycle them, I wonder if I am too set in my ways. Can I relinquish my remote every night? I was okay to hand it over on weekends, but every night? Could I give up Chris Matthews? Will I have to start cooking all the time, rather than only when I'm feeling inspired? Will I have to stop using the chair in my bedroom as a closet? What if he wants pets? Oh, dear. I wear way too much black to ever have pets. And I hate vacuuming, Will I end up the crazy cat lady--sans the cats?

Okay, that's enough. Time to swim. And read. And get out of my own head.