Life can be like a soap opera

My life is like a soap opera. Most of you are too young to remember an old actress whose name was ZaSu Pitts (or something like that.) She used to say, “Oh, dear. Everything happens to me! Life is just a bowl of cherries and I’m the pits!”

Now I’ll tell you what’s going on in my life.

Twice a day I have to use a breathing machine. Usually the medicine comes early. Yesterday, I noticed I only had enough for a couple more days so I called my contact. They told me the medicine comes from Florida and it takes five days to get here, so that means I’ll be without medicine for three days. In the meantime, a local doctor is trying to find me a couple packets.

We’ll see what happens. As for the lady that wanted me to leave behind 100 columns – sorry. I’ve only got a few extra. Re-read the old ones. Principles of living never change.

Now for another story. I’ve been getting letters from “The Secret Society.” They said that I had been picked out because of my many talents, but as I read further, I’m afraid I’m on the “sucker list!”

They started out by telling me this society is thousands of years old and the people who are in it are all very rich, powerful, and have great sex lives. I wrote back and told them they hadn’t done their homework very well because if they had, they would have found out I’m not for wealth.

I can remember years ago I had an old Chevy. A good friend of mine told me to get rid of that car because a business woman in my position should have a better car. All I knew was that it ran good and got me where I wanted to go! My husband and I were married for 42 years and we only once bought a new car! And it was not for show.

Oh, I admit I tried to dress well, but my sister, Rose, had a dress shoppe and we all worked for her at one time or another and her clothes were so good I still have some. Alfred Dunners, they never wear out!

We always bought antique furniture because it never went out of style. We were close to “frugal.”

As for the sex, at 88 who’s looking for sex! And if I were, my eyes aren’t what they used to be! I’d probably never see it. So you see I’m not a good candidate for the Secret Society.

This week I got the clincher. I only need to send $139 and some cents to get my secrets! They ignored my comments on why I was not a good candidate.

Last night someone asked me where I got my ideas for this column. It’s easy. Look for the mailman and sit by the telephone.

By the way, if any one can spare two packets of Brovana until Monday night you could maybe be a life saver! This is a first for this column! The medicine is called Brovana.

Have a great life!