Another Miss Kittyism

While heading to the grocery store I mentioned to Miss Kitty that I thought it was very hot in the car.

She nodded wisely and said conspiratorially: It's That Time, isn't it?

Um, What time, Miss Kitty?

You know, that time. Time for the change.

Yes, perhaps, I replied.

Well, we won't talk about it, said she. My mother never talked about it.

Okay, I said, Mum's the word.

In her repetitive fashion, Miss Kitty continued:

No, Mother never talked about the change.

She never talked about it when she died, either.

For which I am eternally grateful! Because even at Eastertime when such things have been known to happen, I do not want a dead woman rising from the grave and talking to me about menopause.