Premature indicates a time “before maturity” has imposed itself. Like –“childhood” or “infancy.” Or still budding, yet not bloomed.
Personally, I am post-mature. I flowered, then I got old and my petals fell off. No amount of putting stuff in the water is going to fix it.
Right now, I’m dealing with a lot of stuff. Getting the car fixed from a small but significant accident. This requires setting up a time with the appraiser, renting a car, making a date with the repair shop — at least a four-way deal. It’s also long past the point of finding out exactly which surgery Garry is supposed to be getting for his ear, not to mention and finding out about the technology.
We need to get the chimney fixed though I’m assured it will survive at least one more winter, or so we hope.
I am sitting at an intersection and waiting for the longest red light in the world to change to green, while someone is urging me to make a premature left turn before the change takes place. How I ended up here is another story.
After years of disability and now retirement, I have found a job. Yay. I am working for an agency who will send me to take care of older folks in their homes. Mary (not her real name) is my first case. I am driving her around and the last stop is a local Target where she bought gifts for her grandchildren. Coming out of Target and boom, the longest red light in the world is staring at us.
We’re waiting and waiting and no green light on the horizon. I didn’t time it but it was awfully long. Mary goes, there’s something wrong with this light…