As I stumble into old age, I am accepted in the local community as the lady who gets into the wrong vehicle in the Aldi car park, has a happy chat with someone then suggests that we have a coffee together to catch up on old times, only to discover, once we remove our face masks to drink our coffee, that I’ve never met the person before in my life.
I can’t help it. I never could, but now I can’t help it even more. I’m not people orientated. I should confine my socializing to old dogs and my husband. He understands, or is at least less prone to criticizing me. He just sighs a lot and shakes his head.
