Hilary For the President

I meant "Hilarity for the Present."
Which is ironic, considering that I have not encountered a great lot of hilarity all day. Neither have I encountered Hilary....and I truly hope she doesn't become president, because she seems more dishonest than a Monday in January.
Today was every inch a Monday in January. My day went something like the following:

I began the day with a Retinol eye mask, guaranteed to reduce the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles....but it was no match for the age on my face. I applied a lovely shade of blonde to my persistently dark, and increasingly grey, roots. Mercifully,it helped. A vigorous workout, a lunch date with my oldest two and a pate of sushi, and then the downward spiral began.

"Is that a flat tire?"
"You could be a grandmother"
"I'm going to jail tomorrow, can you give me a ride?"
"Your Grandmother may only have months to live."
"Your hip will never allow you to run again."
"You may want to consider drinking. Heavily."

- Some of those things were actually said to me, and some were things I basically said to myself. You'll have to use your imagination, because I'm not going to clarify. The effect was about the same, though, as if Hilary had called Herself to report on doomsday. The onset of an aggressive bout of PMS may have tainted my perspective somewhat, but it's hard to say to what extent. Needless to say, I really need a mulligan. Or a stiff drink. Or a more aggressive eye cream. Heaven knows we need a new president.