The days of the week have names and I now know which is which (after two months+ on lockdown). The date? No clue. Please consult a calendar. Let’s catch up on My Carona.
Did you know that the best laid plans go wherever socks disappear to? Although I read on the Internets lately that socks mostly get lost somewhere in the washer’s inside doohickeys and often end up out the water pipe, hence they should always be in a zipped sock bag. So let’s go with the best laid plans end up wherever all my pens and ponytail holders do, some nether region I couldn’t find on a map if I tried, a magical place propelled by a similarly magical force of pilfering, i.e., stealing said items never to be seen again.
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
I’m glad you asked.
These are dangerous times, my friends. The word dam that filters what I’m thinking and keeps it from actually coming out of my mouth has sprung a few leaks of late. I can’t help it — I hold stuff in until it has nowhere else to go but out, and often unexpectedly, even to me.
The fact that I’ve been binge-watching shows that often feature sarcasm, because OF COURSE I would find that amusing, probably isn’t helping.
Case in point: last week, I immediately thought of a quote from Veep after I answered a (stupid) question. The quote, by Richard Splett, assistant to Selina Meyer: “You know, I’m saying all of this out loud, and I probably shouldn’t be.”
AN ACTUAL CONVERSATION
The Powers That Be, walking in the door: “Do you have a ChapStick?”
“No,” I said. Then, without warning, “Well, no, and if I did, it would be mine, which would mean it was open and used, which would mean you couldn’t use it, so I would have to have an unopened, unused ChapStick on me. So do I have an unopened, unused ChapStick on me? Well, the answer to that would be no.”
I’d say it’d be wise if my ChapStick were made of SuperGlue, but who am I kidding? Stupid question gets a stupid answer.
These three things, they randomly are.
Written quick, read by those afar.
Drivel, pointless; thoughts, disjointed.
Very low blogging bar…
Welcome to a random day when my brain is all WHAT? And when that happens, it’s all like, “Share this with the people!” (This happened in February and is happening again. You’re welcome.)
My brain took a tangent from Ally Bean’s post today and reminded me of these two things I said recently without realizing they were coming out of my mouth until they were long said:
“I don’t have time to explain to you why things take so much time.”
“If you keep calling so many things priorities, pretty soon the priorities list is going to be a horizontal line.”
Thanks, Pixabay, for the pic!
I’ve so done this before. The thing about life, though — similar things keep happening and you have to handle them. So I breathe and reboot, take 1,000. *clapboard claps*
I’ve held my tongue. I’ve kept my mouth shut. Until the past few weeks.
Bits and pieces came out, then a deluge of truth I could no longer keep to myself. It’s a good thing I like solitude, because once you tell people what’s really going on, they often don’t want to spend time with you after that.
Someone just microwaved a piece of fish. This should be illegal.
As an INFJ, I spend a lot of time gathering information and intel (consciously and sub so), and also analyzing/questioning/pondering, etc. I do a lot of this silently so most people wouldn’t notice my brain is constantly playing 20 questions / 1,000,000 answers. Sometimes, though, my brain gives me a break and I only think, like, half as much as usual and contemplate silly things that make me laugh. Lucky you, today is that day.
Twas the Tuesday before American Thanksgiving, when we celebrate people in silly hats with buckles pre-snookering cool cats in feather headdresses with crappy food like turkey, but hey, beggers can’t be choosers, eh? I am at work. I will forever be at work. Though told that Friday is “family time,” ergo boss will not be in the office, I will be here, despite the fact that I came from and in fact do still have a family. Apparently, family time = only for the 1%. Continue reading →
I’m coming out of a fog into a haze of snow. I’m psychologically and emotionally spent, and I’m merely adjacent to the turmoil around me. That’s not 100 percent true — I knew her, too — not deeply, but enough to be disturbed by the news, let alone the aftermath of the little bit that has fallen to me to deal with. Four days ago, my boss’s wife died unexpectedly. The door on her life is closed. Continue reading →