Night Sweats and Orka Whales

 I am a person that tends to jump with both feet. 

As I am approaching my mid~life crisis years,

 this trait has actually gotten stronger

 instead of mellowing out.

To allow you to keep up with my rants and raves,

 I need to give you a little bit of info....

* We are at that stage to decide if we want to keep the house we are in, 

sale it, or buy/build something new.

 (info for a later date)

* The boys are almost out of the house,

 so I would like to open a boutique. 

This has been my dream for awhile. 

Trying to figure out if it is the right time

  is going to be the questions.

So now that you are up to date,

 you will understand this much better...

Jack decided to take me to breakfast the other morning

 and somehow the subject of me opening a boutique came up.

 My question is timing. 

Do I wait until the boys are gone or open now and get it established.

 Of course I don't want to pick up this adventure,

 if we are to be going through house crap.

So being the investigator type I am. 

I told him that I wanted to drive around 

get numbers of  leasing companies,

  for the boutique to go.

I call and of course leave messages. 

Does anyone answer their phone anymore?

Well that didn't  help wet my appetite.

So I dragged Jack to the credit union.  

Need to get all the dollar ducks in a row.

Well Ms. GiGi the "banker" explains, 

"We are a credit union, we don't do business loans here."

Holy Bat Balls! 

WTF do you mean you don't do loans? 

The voices in my head are screaming! 

The whole time my neck is frozen and stiff. 

I don't dare look over at Jack and see the look of utter

 disbelieve-meant that I know is on his face. 

Well hell, I don't have to. 

He sighs! 

No, its not what you think. 

It's not the sigh of a normal person,

 that inhales their lungs and releases!!

 It is the sound that the Orka makes,

 when they are allowing water to spew,

ya know out their blow hole.

Considering half the day was gone,

 I felt the need for a drink and some lunch. 

Of course, this is the time the SOB of a male chauvinistic pig

 decides to call me about one of the properties. 

Once, the discussion of square footage and money was finished. 

He presides to tell me that considering the sound of my voice, 

I needed to go back to college and finish my degree,

 instead of having visions of a big closet of clothes that my girlfriends

 could come and play dress up.

Excuse me? 

Just how old do you think I am sir?

Upon him explaining to me that I couldn't be much over my 26th birthday,

 I decided to inform him just how far past my 26th birthday I was.

 It kinda went like this...

Sir,

 for your information, you may be a successful businessman. 

But you sure as hell can not judge a woman's age over the phone. 

First of all, my age has nothing to do with business.

Second of all, 

your property is overpriced for the square footage,

 and last but not least to explain to you just how damn old I really am, 

I had to change my pajama's twice because

of hot flashes!

AND THE ORKA SPEWED....

Gigi