Somehow in my world I’ve become the Matriarch of Everyone, relatables and nonrelatables alike. It is a job I’m not very fond of, and not very good at, but the competition isn’t all that stiff. Some of it I understand. If you are the ticket owner, inviting guests to join you makes sense even to me. But….that should be the end of my goodwill. And patience. On your own buddy. Nope. Now I have to start herding cats. Which is why I’m a dog person. I suppose I’ve brought it on myself, but Matriarchology (yep it’s a word if I say it’s a word) needs some tweaking. Recently I went on a riverboat cruise which was very lovely and very scripted. Lots of specific mealtimes, off boat excursions, and bingo. Fortunately I was too afraid to play games with the old people so dropped that from my daily to do list. My traveling companion (no names please) was up for anything and everything, except looking at the itinerary. He would ask (yes calling you out sorry) manymanymany times whowhatwhenandwhere, but then not quite listen to the answer. Or look at the paper we were given everyday with the complete schedule. Herding cats. I am a back row person. Haven’t wanted to be the line leader since second grade. (Ok sixth). It’s very frustrating to try to keep the cats orderly when they seem to be wandering aimlessly. I guess in the big scope of Boomlennial life this isn’t a huge problem, but then again those creatures are sneaky, and just when you are feeling oppressively in charge they might just scratch you in the back. Especially when you’re writing smack about them. #youareallgettinganelectricshockcollar #femaledog