In July, up in Austin, I was highly offended when the police record over a minor parking dispute referred to me [the perpetrator in this isolated incident] as a “middle-aged woman.”
By the last week of October, for reasons as yet unknown to me, I’d started referring to myself as a “middle-aged woman.”
At which point the person to whom I’d provided the reference said to me:
“What, do you expect to live to 102?”
At first, I was so relieved that he didn’t say “108” that it took me a week to ask myself the following question:
How did I go from outrage to gratitude in 3 months?
Or is it 4?