As a fellow chronologically superior member of this blogosphere, I would like to brag that I DID actually throw out the unlabeled, and dried out paint cans in the garage…but not the ones that were the consistency of pudding. They’re still perfectly good.
A friend of Life in the Boomer Lane, another woman-of-a-certain-age, was out of town, staying in a hotel, and preparing to meet her first ex-husband for lunch. In spite of the fact that there would be no interest on either of their parts for hanky panky (the vintage way of saying “sex,” not the popular brand of underwear found on one’s lower half), She still wanted to look her best. She showered and applied body lotion. A nagging feeling told her that something was amiss. She picked up the small hotel-provided bottle of body lotion again, this time squinting at the tiny words. She had applied hair conditioner all over her body. There was nothing left to do but get dressed, go out to meet her ex, and hope it didn’t rain and cause her to begin sudsing.
Several days later, another friend of LBL called, in a…
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chronosuper 