You know how the older you get the less likely you are to put up with shit you don’t like?
Me, for instance; I don’t like messy food. Never have. I don’t like preparing it or eating it.
F’r instance, navel oranges squirt ya in the eye and get your chin all wet and sometimes your fingers too. I’ve eaten plenty of oranges in my time and they’ve always been a lot of work. Recently I had just had enough. No more futzing around. Now I buy orange juice, pour half a cup of it into my smoothie and call it a day. Do I miss those juicy, delicious oranges and the gnashing of teeth required to consume them? Not a damn bit.
Beets and turnips. Scott keeps bringing them home from a local organic market and I never get around to cooking them. Really? Really beet juice gets all over and turnips are hard as rocks and a goddamn pain in the ass to peel and chop. To hell with ’em both. I can live without ’em and anyone who can’t is welcome to prepare ’em his own self. I’m done.
Some people think this is me being a princess. Well screw them too. I’m old enough to do what I like, as opposed to what I’ve always done even when I didn’t really want to. There comes a time when that bulldung just has to stop.