Yesterday evening I came to the living room, sat on a chair and started applying serum ('youth fortifying'; what youth?;) when my husband asked me what I was doing. 'Fighting' I answered, truly and sincerely.
I tend to fight most of my days, and nights. Against age, with all the creams, serums, oils and treatments I can afford. Against dust, hoovering every 3rd day with passion and no mercy for food remains which both of my sweet little monsters tend to carelessly spread around the floor. Against my moods, and that fight is the most difficult.
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