My friend Olga and I used to joke about how sexy young Russian women at some undefined point in their lives all of a sudden made the jump to being dumpy old Russian women with blankets over their heads and mis-matched nude knee-highs. In fact, we were going to go as both one Halloween, but somehow it didn’t happen. We both wanted to be the old one.
Anyway, it’s noon on a Tuesday, and as I was chatting with my flatmate Cassie about a problem I’m having with my collars, it all of sudden occurred to me that not only was I still in my bathrobe, I was wandering around the house with a little stuffed dog under my arm. Exactly when did the transition to ‘crazy as a coot’ occur?