The wind mitigation inspector came by yesterday. He went up into the attic and did a visual inspection of the roof. Afterward we went over the report together.

Those are the facts. To elaborate, he was cute and sweet and young and tall and had delicious chocolate brown eyes. We talked about the roof, but also touched on a vast amount of other subjects as well… the Dog Whisperer, working out, the yard… Actually, I blabbed like a smitten schoolgirl and I think I may even have blushed when talking about the kid to Arthur later that night. He certainly looked at me funny.

It wasn’t until after the inspector left that I realized how young he was and how old I was… and I felt like an old, fat Nana that he was probably laughing at now.

I know why older people take younger lovers now: while in their company, the older people feel young and vital again… and while I’m not reaching for the Phentermine or Botox yet, I’m thinking about it.

Just more of wanting to be the me that I remember. ‘Dr. Freud, line 2; it’s another old horny wrinkled grandmother!’ Heh.