Mid - Life Crisis

Rightfully assuring myself that I am entitled to a mid-life crisis like everyone else, I am spending my day in the ice and snow here on the eastcoast plotting and designing it. Perhaps, my writing, is my mid - life crisis, or, perhaps, it is more lewdly suggestive of impulsive narrative just before I design my mid - life crisis. 

You know the one, where I slip out in the mid of the night, drive to JFK airport, catch a flight to Paris, and live on the Riviera for a year writing in behavior lewdly suggestive of mania, dancing all night and skinny-dipping at dawn. Taking up suit with a very handsome, perfectly poised, dimple laden man, whom wants nothing more than to serve me. 

I have a zillion plausible ideas for my mid - life crisis. I think it to be every women's right to a mid - life crisis, after the toll of the years we spend taking care of, and nurturing, everyone else's wants and needs. The right to a mid - life crisis should come in the form of a giftcard, a very large giftcard, a very very large giftcard, to use as we choose.......and squander at will, on bad decisions, and seven hundred dollar Jimmy Choo shoes, and, perhaps, the attractive shoe salesman who sold us those same shoes, who gets off at 7, and only fancies fine dining establishments. The snow is making me delirious it would appear!