I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up.
I’m trapped inside my BRAIN. Let me tell you, it’s a horrifying place to be. It is VERY crowded in here, and noisy. In the event of cabin depressurization or a water landing or a plain ol’ crash there are no oxygen masks, flotation devices, or big inflatable slides. There’s only… ummm… well, you could try grabbing onto one or another of the misfiring neurons and hope that it doesn’t land you in the great black abyss, I suppose. Good luck with that.
Now, usually, I can pluck something out of here and point it to my fingers and they do a little dance with the keyboard and VOILA, a little something for you to read. The problem today is that nothing that seems within reach is anything that deserves to see the light of day. Stupid brain.
Everything that currently clogs up my poor brain can be classified in one of more of the following categories:
1) I’m overreacting about something that will probably turn out to be nothing. But just in case, I’ve decided to obsess about it for approximately 23 hours and 59 minutes out of each day. (The remaining minute shall be spent wondering if I should take a break and have a snack.)
2) I’m devoting a lot of time and energy to something I’m not ready to talk about yet, lest it skitter away from the harsh glare of reality and slip out of my grasp forever. You know how it is… you open the door and your fluffy little pet project gets spooked and takes off and gets run over by a car. Messy.
3) There are some lovely people in my life whom I love in spite of the fact that they will scour my blog for any indication that I need! to! talk! about THINGS and then badger me to SHARE. Sometimes, I just want to write about stuff and then pretend it never happened. Or be vague about something without having to screen my calls for the next week if I wish I avoid a thorough grilling. There are things I could say, if not for this conundrum. As it is, I feel the need to preemptively state that everything is fine! And my phone is broken!
4) There is no number 4.
Anyway, given all of that, what I’m left to talk about is… uhhhh… well, I’m still working on that part.
Hey! I know! I’ll distract y’all with some issues on which I need advice, and then YOU can talk, and I can go back to doing whatever it is I normally do to extricate myself from this sort of self-absorption. Doesn’t that sound like a great plan? Of course it does!
Feel free to offer your learned opinions on any and all of the following:
1) What’s the difference between running and walking shoes (sneakers, that is)? I need to buy some sneakers that will hold up to a LOT of walking and am wondering if I should buy some running shoes in the hopes that they’ll last longer, or be more comfortable, or something. Any recommendations on a cheap but durable brand/model?
2) I think it would be a spectacular fund raiser to auction off the chance to smack Teri Hatcher upside the head. The only question, to my mind, is what cause is the most noble and deserving of this opportunity. Please let me know your opinion on which philanthropic endeavor is most compatible with bitch-slapping that annoying woman.
3) I would love it if someone could explain to me WHY the only men who contact me off of any sort of matching site are smokers. When filling out a profile, the respondant is given the opportunity to specify that a potential match meet any variety of criteria from hair color to food preference. I am flexible on nearly everything. Except smoking. I have no desire to date an ashtray. I clearly state that I am not interested in smokers. Hence I am only contacted by smokers. Why?
4) There is still no number 4.
Discuss. I’m going to look for a broom and maybe some garbage bags.