At my age, “getting lucky” means being able to find my car in the parking lot.
The bills are washed, the dishes are paid, the laundry’s in the oven. I’m going to bed.
My bra is off, my pajamas are on, my hair is up. I’m not sure if I’m going to bed, or to Walmart.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t had sex for a very long time.” — and other things I say during the meeting to excuse my bad behavior.
I just sent a text that says “we really need to talk” to everyone I know so nobody will bother me today.