On how I think
I feel like I should post something.
I've been sick since last Friday. My voice is making its way back but I am still a sniffly sneezy mess and if this is the same Crazy Snot Disease I had last fall I am going to have a serious talk with the universe.
Right now I'm having serious guilt about how messy my room is.
We might be going furniture shopping tomorrow after tennis. Because part of the reason my room is the way it is is because I have had the same furniture since I was almost-2 and it's meant to hold small-child-sized clothes.
I don't know how I will teach tennis to anyone without the ability to give directions from the opposite end of the court. Unless it's that doctor woman and her epic kids. They are such fun and I can't believe I would ever say that about a doctor who was not a family member (and even all of them aren't awesome).
Sometimes I wonder how the heck I ended up with the thought pattern I keep and the issues I harbor. They mix about as well as oil and water but somewhere in there are the egg whites. The...emulsifier? The thing that makes it all work and blend together. If only I could figure out what that thing is.
There is a song, a recent song, with the words 'egg whites' in it. That is what I always think of now.
Sunday night: "Do you really want my sick self in your room right now?" "You're not sick." "..."
Monday night: "Was that you this morning sneezing and coughing for half an hour before you left for work?" "I'm sick." "...I thought you'd just talked your voice away."
It's two days to NOVEMBER and I ache for the epic event that was All Saints' Day mass marathon at school but I can see the epicness that the month will bring in other areas.
I also smell a release-date pushback. I hope I'm wrong, but I'm not making any bets.
I think I spend a lot of time trying to figure out if I'm still as broken as I was. Some days it's yes, some days no. Recently there have been more 'no' days.
Two of my three most favorite days of the year were absolutely awful this year. Am not holding out hopes for Christmas.
I think once I go upstairs I will probably spend another hour or two awake hanging up/folding clothes. And finally putting the sheets on my bed. It's getting cold.
When I cook and no one else is home, I talk to myself as though there is another myself there, a self whom I am instructing in the delicate art of sprinkling powdered sugar on a roll-up towel. (Such an art is far less delicate than it is extremely messy.)
November will also be good because Election Day happens early this year and all these ridiculous political ads can finally get off my television and radio.
This post is long and full of a lot of nothing. It's whatever came into my head. I kind of wish I did this more often, so that I'm not the only one who stops for a moment and ponders things like why we call it a "mall" and what the root word might be and if "mall" was ever a verb that kind of transitioned into a noun the way I imagine run and walk once did.
I've been sick since last Friday. My voice is making its way back but I am still a sniffly sneezy mess and if this is the same Crazy Snot Disease I had last fall I am going to have a serious talk with the universe.
Right now I'm having serious guilt about how messy my room is.
We might be going furniture shopping tomorrow after tennis. Because part of the reason my room is the way it is is because I have had the same furniture since I was almost-2 and it's meant to hold small-child-sized clothes.
I don't know how I will teach tennis to anyone without the ability to give directions from the opposite end of the court. Unless it's that doctor woman and her epic kids. They are such fun and I can't believe I would ever say that about a doctor who was not a family member (and even all of them aren't awesome).
Sometimes I wonder how the heck I ended up with the thought pattern I keep and the issues I harbor. They mix about as well as oil and water but somewhere in there are the egg whites. The...emulsifier? The thing that makes it all work and blend together. If only I could figure out what that thing is.
There is a song, a recent song, with the words 'egg whites' in it. That is what I always think of now.
Sunday night: "Do you really want my sick self in your room right now?" "You're not sick." "..."
Monday night: "Was that you this morning sneezing and coughing for half an hour before you left for work?" "I'm sick." "...I thought you'd just talked your voice away."
It's two days to NOVEMBER and I ache for the epic event that was All Saints' Day mass marathon at school but I can see the epicness that the month will bring in other areas.
I also smell a release-date pushback. I hope I'm wrong, but I'm not making any bets.
I think I spend a lot of time trying to figure out if I'm still as broken as I was. Some days it's yes, some days no. Recently there have been more 'no' days.
Two of my three most favorite days of the year were absolutely awful this year. Am not holding out hopes for Christmas.
I think once I go upstairs I will probably spend another hour or two awake hanging up/folding clothes. And finally putting the sheets on my bed. It's getting cold.
When I cook and no one else is home, I talk to myself as though there is another myself there, a self whom I am instructing in the delicate art of sprinkling powdered sugar on a roll-up towel. (Such an art is far less delicate than it is extremely messy.)
November will also be good because Election Day happens early this year and all these ridiculous political ads can finally get off my television and radio.
This post is long and full of a lot of nothing. It's whatever came into my head. I kind of wish I did this more often, so that I'm not the only one who stops for a moment and ponders things like why we call it a "mall" and what the root word might be and if "mall" was ever a verb that kind of transitioned into a noun the way I imagine run and walk once did.