End-Of-The-Year-Mortality Anxiety

Starting another year.

2022. That was interesting.

I’m hoping 2023 gives us a little light at the end of the tunnel. And the end of the tunnel, will be a land of multiple orgasms and cotton candy. Or something like that.

I go through end-of-the-year mortality anxiety every fucking year.

This year was awful. I am much better now. I’m not less scared to die or less worried I’m already sick, but I am sick of myself worrying about death. So, progress?

I think I need to step back and focus on smaller things than life and death.

That’s just too much. I need to scale it back and worry about something not quite so, well, life changing. Or ending as it were.

For instance, why is “fuck you and the horse you road in on” a saying? Why? What did the horse even do? Probably nothing.

And if you are a human with a vagina and you use that saying? Are you really thinking this through? Hmmmm? Because I don’t think you’re considering that scenario would actually work out.

Humans are weird. A saying about horse fucking should not be so widely used.

I bet if horses could talk, then the only question they would have would be “Before you ride in anywhere on me, is there anyone who wants to fuck you and will that spill over onto me?”

Or, am I taking that particular saying too seriously?

Getting older is definitely on my mind as 60 is less than 2 months away.

Getting older is trippy. So many things change. I don’t taste things the same anymore. I can’t see very well. Even my sense of smell has been changing. I’m noticing smells I’ve never noticed before and I don’t like any of them. 

Like the other day. I got out of the shower and I bent over at the waist because I was rubbing shea butter into my calves. When I bent over, I got a whiff of something. Something that bought to mind the floor of an ancient forest. Or maybe the rotting corpse of a wood nymph. That, and I don’t know…broken promises?

I did panic for a minute. Is that me? What? No. I just got out of the shower. Of course it’s not me. For all that is holy, that smelled like a dead wood chuck.  Is…is that my bathroom floor? What the fuck?

I mean, it’s fair to say my bathroom could use a nice sprucing up, but it shouldn’t smell like the secret elephant burial ground, either.  It had to be the bathroom floor. Because if that smell is coming out of me, then my mortality anxiety is justified and I won’t be here much longer. 

It’s all good now. I fixed the problem. I just stopped bending over at the waist. I just don’t do that anymore.

I bet that is a phrase the over 60 crowd uses all the time. “I don’t do that anymore.”

I best this is how the old lady smell starts. We get a little hint of what is in our future and we just go “No. Nope, That isn’t a thing. It didn’t happen. I didn’t smell anything. I’m not dying. Everything is fine..”

Either that, or I really need to clean my bathroom floor.

I’m going to work on a more positive attitude, starting with today. Which is a good day to start as this is mine and Randy’s 26th wedding anniversary. It feels good to continue digging living with the same person for so many years. He hasn’t complained of any new weird and upsetting smells emitting from me, so I guess I’m still okay.

Or his smell is failing too. He is older than me by a few years, so who knows?

Now, please excuse me, I’m going to use the last few productive hours of my extended holiday weekend to bleach the shit out of my bathroom floor. Damn.








20 Thoughts.

  1. Happy Anniversary! And don’t worry about the smell. You don’t mind the 6 foot wall distance of personal space around you anyway.

    Enjoy the beginning of another new year and just wait until you hit the 70’s! It’ll make your 60’s seem like your teenage years!

  2. OMG – thank you for that laugh. I am blessed with a husband with a weirdly weak sense of smell. It has been a blessing, in many ways. I doubt our dog that farts what I can only describe as “rotten brisket” would have lasted this long, if my husband could smell it. As for my senses – I find my house is cleaner if I don’t wear my bifocals. . .

  3. This made me laugh out loud! I think the saying about the horse was something only used by those of us who straddle the line between Baby Boomer and Gen X – in other words, the cool people. I still like that phrase though, even if it makes no sense. I too, have noticed my sense of smell becoming sharper. I thought it was my allergy medicine but maybe not? And my husband has almost no sense of smell. Really strange. There is something so freeing about saying “I don’t do that anymore” or “I don’t care anymore” – I am a big fan of both. Here’s to a great new year!

  4. Happy New Year Michelle!

    Well, lets both just hope for one, and work toward it. I admit I have never heard the phrase, “fuck you and the horse you road in on”. I did however teach my Romanian friend, “Fuck a duck”. Perhaps there is a zoo of fuckery going on. Please keep that horse away from my duck. 😉
    I get the getting older thing. I always cultivated older friends. Now I’m losing all my friends. Well, not all, but more than I thought I would. Some younger as well. Let’s hope for some slowing down on that trend.
    I’m sure 60 isn’t that bad. 50 was sort of blah for me. I have three more years until 60. Technically 2,5.
    I am glad Randy makes you happy, because, it makes everything easier.
    Again, Happy New Year.

    PS. On a lighter note I sent a note card to a friend in Australia who lost both her sister and daughter in the same month. A drunk Canada goose. They are everywhere here. Well, actually it was an underage goose. A gosling. There are always ways to make people smile.


  5. Happy anniversary!
    I’m 62, but my list of “I don’t do that any more” things started in ’08 when I had my stroke. The list changes, though, as I do things I thought I couldn’t and I ditch things I find annoying.
    I’m a guitar player again. I kind of stopped playing for ten years when we moved out of the warehouse space we lived in back in 2011, but now I have been playing about 45 minutes each night and only missed five nights since November of last year.
    I have to mop our bathroom floor twice a day when it rains because water gets in and I hate stepping in it in my socks in the middle of the night.
    2022 went far better than it easily could have, so I don’t have that “kill it with fire” feeling that I had about the previous couple of years, and the prospects for 2023 are encouraging,
    Let’s see how long I can keep this quasi-optimistic attitude, It’s kind of refreshing…

  6. Happy anniversary! And congratulations on spending the last few hours of your vacation doing something useful. It must be a superpower of getting older that we finally get around to getting shit done.

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