Entry #50 - Spinster Miscellany

Dear Diary,
   
     Here we are at 50 entries! It's the Diary of a Spinster Aunt Golden Jubilee, The Spinster Quinquagenary, The Semi-Centennial of Solitude!  Whatever you want to call it, I can't really decide whether I am really proud or really depressed. Perhaps a little of column A and a little of column B. God only know what my emotional health will look like at entry #500.
    In honour of the 50th entry I have collected together some spinster miscellany from the last year; a group of things that on their own are a little quirky, but when collected together are a fail-proof recipe for a lifetime of spinsterhood. I hope it brings you happiness in the way that only schadenfreude can...

Spinster Mii

   When my friend Megan is in town I often go up island and stay with her family for a night. Megan has the kindest, loveliest parents on the planet. Somehow, almost every time I go up there her dad makes us fancy blended alcoholic beverages which he serves us on the deck, and her mom manages to serve 6 homemade meals in a span of 24 hours; often including (but not limited to) steak, shrimp and avocado croissantwiches, fancy coffee drinks, fruit tarts, and homemade waffles. It goes without saying that I always experience a serious case of the "Yes Pleases" while I'm there and probably gain about 5lbs in one day. It's not just the food either, I have been told by Megan that some people have left her house only to find that her dad has washed their car for them. If that's not hospitality I don't know what is.  

On one visit, Megan and I were challenged by her parents to a Wii Sport showdown. Full of good food and lime margaritas we readily accepted the challenge. Megan's dad insisted that I needed my own personalized Mii and that he would gladly design one for me. I watched in horror as my Mii took shape. It was the most miserable, pinched-faced, stereo-typically spinsterly Mii I had ever seen; and this without her dad having any idea that I consider myself to be one. So, one day in the not so distant future, when counselor Pat asks me "how I think men perceive me", I'm going to whip out the above picture and say "Like this...".

I clicked help...you know... for tips. It didn't help. 

Spinster Census

 Back in May, right after Kim's departure for Scotland, I received a census form in the mail. I have discovered that the people at the Census Office love nothing more than to write encouraging/threatening things on the envelope containing your form. I think mine said something like "Fill out your census! IT'S THE LAW". So I filled it out, and after answering 57 different questions about my solitary living arrangement I paused to shout at the computer screen "AND ONE CAT, DAMN IT! AND ONE CAT!". 

They lack paprika, because Kim is classier than I am. 

Spinstered Eggs

  Sometimes, when I miss Kimmy, I make food that she used to make us. This month's emotional eating has been dedicated to the appetizer of choice circa 1962 - The Deviled Egg. Nothing says loneliness like the smell of hard-boiled eggs and mayo straight from the jar. Bon apetit! 

Man-catching jewellery...

Emotional Ebaying

   I considered buying this. I feel this is all that needs to be said about the situation. 

Wordfeud Addiction

   My Wordfeud addiction continues. You will note that I am losing the above game by almost 100 points, but it matters not for the Wordfeud gods have spelled out my name! Huzzah~!!

There you go, little guy. Safe and sound.

Inappropriate Maternal Instinct

  I caught myself buckling-in my single serving size of milk. It was both a pathetic and entertaining realization. "Hannah drives down the street in her compact economy vehicle, alone but for the sound of her beloved "soft-favourites" radio station and the litre of milk buckled in beside her".  

"Wretched Excess is Barely Enough"

My fear of becoming a crazy cat-lady in addition to a spinster becomes a more and more logical fear everyday. I take more pictures of that cat than most parents take of their human children. I talk to the cat, I feed the cat grass by hand, and I have even taught him to play hide and seek. If you don't believe me, you can ask my roommate and spinster's apprentice, Heather, for she has witnessed it all. Although in truth, Heather also talks to Gus like he is a human so you might want to send over a sane and impartial witness.

So there you have it, Diary, fifty entries! Who knew that my spinsterdom would last this long*!

* Probably my parents, most of my ex-boyfriends and their current girlfriends/fiancees/wives**, many of my friends, some of my family, most people with the ability to reason either inductively or deductively, Counselor Pat, my childhood piano teacher, and possibly the ultrasound technician while I was in utero.  

**Poor Man's Hannahs