I've been considering my last 100 days as you do. They've not been among my best, but then they've not been among my worst - testing I'd say. And providing you don't insist on living in the present, there's always the future to look forward to.
There's the economy of course - I didn't earn any money between January and March and that can't be good. It makes shopping a real bore for one thing. Friends and former colleagues have been made redundant, and I'm thinking I should maybe do something to bring me in a steady income - deal drugs perhaps? Something regular that will see me through the recession. I could sell knitted jumpers, but then I don't knit - sweaty hands. I could make jam, but then I can't afford to buy all the jars of Tiptree's finest I'd need to put my own jam in. I could revive my flagging journalistic career, but I'd have to revive my flagging mental processes first and I think I may be heading into the menopause because my shortterm memory is utterly kaput. Initially, I wondered if it was Alzheimer's, but I can spell world backwards so it can't be that. I'm figuring it's hormones because I've had four "hot flashes". At least, I think they are hot flashes. It's either that or my husband has taken to pouring white spirit over my sleeping body and setting light to it like some flaming sambuca. The other thing I'm doing is jumbling words. As we are heading out the door to school, I'll say "Put your banana on right now" to a mystified child. This is happening so often, they've taken to translating for each other. "She means coat," one said to the other yesterday.
Earlier this week, I went into a health food shop in a nearby market town where they have supplements and homeopathic remedies. There was a nice man with a beard behind the counter (although there's a chance the homeopathic remedies have side-effects they don't tell you about). I waited about 35 minutes for the old lady in front of me to stop telling him about her aches and pains, and then asked for something for the headaches. I said "I think I'm pre-menopausal." "Are you getting night sweats?" he asked. I think that's what he said. My memory is so bad at the minute, he might have asked how I felt about Alistair Darling's handling of the economy. He went to get his colleague who was at least another woman and she decided to ask about my periods. Periods! We are still standing in the shop and the nice bearded man is still standing there with us. Anyway, you don't necessarily want to talk about whether your womb is withering when you're in a shop selling youghurty raisins and halva. I said something elliptical that could have meant anything and she told me I was too young for the menopause. I'm 44 - I'm not, but it was nice of her to try and make me feel better.
Anyway, so what with the fact I'm broke and heading into Menopause City in a truck, I've had it better. On the upside, we're getting a guineapig.