At this point, my cat, Felix, was alerted to the fact that something out of the ordinary was occurring and joined me in the bathroom. He surveyed my posture on the floor somewhat disapprovingly. “Mama, this lying on the floor is not a good look,” he informed me as he sniffed my eyes and mouth. I agreed.

I used to feel the need to apologize to my hair stylists, “I’m good at doing some things,” I would insist. “Growing hair just isn’t one of them!” The hair stylist would work away for long minutes, and at the end, I would get up from the chair and there was no hair to see on the floor. It was as if the entire thing had been a pantomime involving scissors.

Felix learned that if he got up enough traction in the carpeted bedroom, he could skid down the polished wooden floors in the hall, zoom across the living room, ricochet off the wall, and land on the couch, all in a matter of seconds. Our entire condo became a giant cat racecourse.

I thought as long as the bakery was writing “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” on the cake, they could just as easily write “HAPPY BIRTHDAYS!” followed by “22 & 91.” Then I could put a single candle by each age and simplify the whole complicated (but mandatory) candle-blowing-out procedure.

My grandmother lived to be 100 and outlived all her old friends. So she made new old friends. By the time she passed, many of her friends were closer in age to her children than to her, but she always seemed to have someone to talk to. And that is what matters.

Anyone who has tried to properly scrub their ankles while standing in a shower should save their skills and become a yoga instructor. Or a stork. It is not physically possible. There are creative ways to get one’s feet clean, but the ankles suffer in a shower. And before anyone tells me it doesn’t matter because ankles are covered by socks, I’d like to point out that this could apply to a lot of other body parts. It’s a slippery slope. If we’re going to be okay with dirty ankles, what’s next?

Instead of sharing a house with several cats and a rotating cast of dogs and birds, Felix is the only nonhuman in our house. He plays games with Peter and gets snacks several times a day. He talks a lot and has two people who listen to whatever he has to say, even if it is just his regular announcement of when he is going to have a bowel movement—which I’m sure is newsworthy as far as he is concerned.

It was not my intention to be so amusing, wearing the car wash dress. From a certain angle, it looks pretty stylish. It was some designer’s idea of a good look, and because I wear a smaller size, I can usually fit into these ill-conceived but affordable cast-offs I find on the internet. Not all of them work out. But I am delighted when I can cause some unexpected merriment simply by showing up in an $11 used dress.