Midlife Woes
Things That Bother Me in Bed
Chemically matured bottle gourd at the greengrocer and stuff like that
My ob-gyn’s indifferent thumbs-up emoji for a 1000-word anatomical concern.
The ill-functioning key of the apartment door.
Psychologists’ 1000-word over-caring text.
Posthumous guilt of thoughtless autopay deduction.
My daughter’s overseas half-educated consultant.
My daughter’s scholarship and my son’s relationship.
The loose doorknob of the bathroom.
The half-finished medicine strip in my son’s drawer.
Posthumous guilt on Amazon’s exotic grocery order.
The undercover-agent-type lizard in the kitchen.
Domestic help’s holidays and neighbor’s third pregnancy.
Hubs rapidly bulging belly and store-bought eggs.
Posthumous guilt on doom-scrolling Instagram for three hours.
The limpy vegetables at grocers and the pretentious economy of the nation.
The ignored WhatsApp text and suddenly reminded 6-month-old email.
Hard to remember passwords and stupid user IDs.
Posthumous guilt of being financially dumb.
Dad’s 11 missed calls and Granny’s constipation description.
Hub’s dying passport and my growing anxiety.
Nutritionist diet plan and my inability to execute a decent-looking dish.
Posthumous guilt of being a helicopter mum.
My decaying culinary expertise and rising sugar levels.
My obsessive cleaning compulsion and unsupportive body.
Scattered documents and scattered lives.
