The Bedside Chronicles: A Midlife in Progress

The Nighttime Pharmacy Roulette

Last night, it was time to play "What's in the Wicker Basket?" winners:

- Estrogen gel (Slap it on!)

- Progesterone pill (Pop it in!)

- Sage complex (Not for stuffing, but for those delightful nocturnal hot flashes. Surprise sweat party, anyone?)

The Unwelcome Nighttime DJ Anxiety

Just as I'm about to drift off, book discarded, glasses flung dramatically to the floor (because who needs to see in their dreams?), my brain decides it's showtime.

Tonight's burning questions included:

1. Should I re-sew ALL the buttons on the duvet covers? They are perfectly fine.

2. How can I expand the driveway parking? (Because clearly, 5 AM is the perfect time for urban planning)

3. Must. Feed. Sourdough. Starter. (The newest member of the family, demanding attention like a newborn)

4. Where on earth will I find a UBend for a 1995 cast iron bath?

5. Why is the underside of my left boob sweating.

6. A lot more boring rubbish that arrives in the darkness of night

The Sourdough Saga

Speaking of starters, when did I become the type of person who mesmerizes over bubbling rye flour? It's like having a pet science experiment. I still need to bake a loaf, but who has time for bread when you're busy hunting down vintage plumbing parts?

In Conclusion

So there I was, gripping my pillow like it's the last lifeboat on the Titanic, my brain a whirlwind of home improvement schemes and bread-making fantasies, and all the other shit that arrives in the dark of night far too dull to write here.

But you know what?

I wouldn't have it any other way; I am grateful that I am where I am and surrounded by good people, maybe with a bit more sleep. And that elusive U-bend would be handy.

Remember, friends, midlife isn't a crisis - it's an adventure. If you'll excuse me, I have a date with my little dog and a paintbrush.