Today M. and I met with my financial advisor. I thought it would be a good time to implement today’s girly-girl attitude.

My financial guy talked and so I did something I’ve always wanted to do at our annual meetings: I tuned it all out.

He went on, and on, and on: blah, blah,blah. Dollars in, dollars out, inflation, blah, blah, and blah.

I finally looked up at the both of them and said: “The two of you just need to go out to dinner and talk about this. I’m happy to never have to deal with this again.”

And that was that.

Girly-girl avoidance. Almost as good as Xanax.

But not quite.