Crazy Train

“Omg, I just saw your message. I was running from Zombies through an obstacle course at the time. Sorry!”

That’s the message I sent my mother on Monday morning after realizing I didn’t read her message from Saturday night.

I’m 36.

So believe me when I tell you that I judge myself pretty hard sometimes. Then, I realize that I’m not so bad.

Fun? Yes.

Ridiculous? Absolutely.

Responsible? Most of the time.

And that’s good enough, dammit.


My boss handed me a project today and all I could think was, “Ugh. I don’t have time for this.”

I totally have time. I’m among the time havers today, I just don’t wanna.

I’m super busy trying to remember all of my boyfriend’s pet peeves that he mentioned over the weekend so I can maintain a list, obviously.

Why would I keep an account of his pet peeves?

Glad you asked. I’m keeping it on the off chance that we someday get married so I can list all of them off during our vows, thus solidifying his complete understanding of how deep my love is because I have taken the time to acknowledge and notate every little thing that irks him. Duh.

I also can’t be bothered today because I’m still pondering why the little old lady left the stall door open yesterday in the bathroom while peeing. Was it an accident and when she noticed, she was already much too cozy to get up and lock it? Did she not notice until she was mid-stream so it was too late? Was it intentional and she just doesn’t give a shit anymore (hopefully not yesterday at least)?  I hope the latter was the case, but the not knowing will haunt me until at least 3pm at which point my mind will move on something equally as unimportant..

Like the fact that I have to break it to my favorite Ginger pal that I disagree about the best song on the Robert Plant/Alison Krauss album, but I hope we’ll still be Beer Friends Forever.

That’s it folks, the ADD train has left the station with only me on board. I think. I’m not even sure what train this is.


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