Cat on a Hot Tin ...

I'm about at the end. One of the cruel jokes of the universe is that men peak sexually at age 19, and that women reach the same mark until their mid-thirties. Or so the scientists say.

I need more regular sex. Irregular sex would be fine too, I'm not that particular. But more and more these days I find myself occupied with thoughts of how to go about getting it without actually triggering divorce proceedings on the other end.

The first idea is this: a work slowdown. Works for the Unions, right? I'm picturing mountains of laundry, unbathed children and -- God save us all -- microwave dinners. (Since last night's selection was homemade macadamia crusted flounder with mango/papaya salsa, I'm guessing this would be noticed first.)

At this point, I'll treat it as a research project. Keep logs. That sort of thing. Unless he gets the hint and starts keeping up his end, if you catch. Because if you think I'm hanging it up at 37, weighing what I did in High School and with a few moves of my own left, you're insane.