Do you ever go to do a task, only to stop before you start because you’ve already forgotten what you were going to do? That’s me more and more lately. So I’ve started emailing myself my to do lists, which works great in theory, but one of the things ON my to do list is to check my email. I need a new solution. Like a chalkboard! Except then I’d just draw pictures of myself on it:
This is obviously a dramatic imagining, as I would never actually walk around with a dumbbell, and I prefer three olives in my martinis. I also have feet, but I refuse to draw something so vile.
Now I really want a chalkboard. Can I get one, Mike? Please?
Anyway. Today has really been one of those days. Except actually, I think it’s been more than just a day, because this morning I told my friend that I thought it was stupid for her doctor to have a Monday off and she laughed and said “it’s Tuesday.” Which, fine, but what kind of doctor takes a random day off in the middle of the week? I call shenanigans.
When I was in high school, I found the pressure to write meaningful yearbook messages overwhelming. I couldn’t just write, “Have a nice summer! See you in the fall!” No. I had to be funny! I had to be irreverent! So I’d write these absurd rambling stream of consciousness messages and then at the end I’d tack on an “I love you!!!!! XOXOX!!!!!!!” My friends Tara and Erin have the best (worst?) of these yearbook tomes, and I fear they will one day use them against me. In fact, they both know a lot of weird stuff about me….Hey Tara and Erin! You’re so pretty! I love you!!!!! XOXOX!!!!!!!
Sometimes I think that the door in my brain that holds back my weirdness needs a new deadbolt.
Can you tell that I forgot what I was going to write about tonight?
Prediction: Mike will wake up in the morning, read this and think, “whyyyyy does she post this crap?” And then he’ll lecture me. And I’ll say, “I had something better to post about but I forgot it and then I started thinking about a chalkboard and it took me three hours to draw that!!!” And then he’ll say, “You need to manage your time better. And now everyone is going to know how weird you are!” And I’ll say, “they won’t know HOW weird I am. Just that I *AM* weird. There is a subtle, but distinct, difference.” Then he’ll huff off saying, “you’re gonna get like 13 comments, and they’ll all say, “Mike is right!”
We are SO in a fight.