Musings on my upcoming mid-life crisis

In a few short months I’ll be turning 40. It’s not the age – it’s the mileage. Despite a regular exercise routine I stand in front of mirror and wonder “When did that start to happen?” I’m experiencing a flesh and blood version of plate tectonics. Gradual shifting of the soft continents. Most of it south. Cripes. I probably should divorce my relationship with ice cream and red wine. I can’t do it. I am weak.

Physical changes aside I’m having a whole lot of “what do I want to be when I grow up-itis.” The corporate world leaves me scratching my head wondering what I’m actually contributing to the bottom line, the greater good…blah blah blah. . Let’s face it. There are only so many ways to make financing sound attractive. It’s really hard to be excited about making an already rich CEO, CFO or UFO richer. Nothing says motivation like a 2.8% raise when the top dogs in the company have cashed in 10M in stock options within 8 weeks. I digress.

And so much to the dismay of my spouse I’ve turned my basement into a tye-dye shop. Perhaps this isn’t a logical thought process. $11 tye-dyes aren’t going to bring me closer to retirement. But it’s mine. I own it. I control it. I’m all about control (insert maniacal laughter here). And it allows me to flex my creative muscle and for the moment is cheaper then buying a convertible. Not that tye dye does much to contribute to the greater good although it is much more fun then trying to make 3.9% sizzle.

Off to rinse 18 pink dye dress. Damn they are cute.