I apologetically shrug as I point to my head. “Sorry, menopause brain.” Names? Gone. Appointments? Forgotten. Hippocampus? Swiss cheese. I find myself creating routines because it appears that I am now my own toddler in desperate need of a predictable environment. Sans routine, I come into the kitchen and see our cat Steve go full…
It’s not just road rage. Although following a driver who doesn’t know how to merge, signal or meet the speed limit will most definitely set me off. “What the FUCK are you DOING?!? There is a whole lane for you to MERGE INTO!!! You don’t have to SLOW down to 10 kph you brainless WASTE…
WARNING: Colourful language in this post. Fact: My internal thermostat is fucked. I’ve dealt with hot flashes since the age of 36. But the night sweats? The truly disgusting, sleep-annihilating, life-altering, make-you-feel-like-you-have-malaria… Wait. Maybe it’s not night sweats. Maybe it’s malaria. It’s January. In Canada. There are no mosquitos. Maybe it’s COVID… again. Cue rapid…