You are neither Wolverine nor Roderick Usher, and . . . in the space of two seconds I just dropped two references on you that I know you won’t get. Let’s just call it even and all get some sleep, okay?
– Me talking to my son after an hour of him insisting that his freshly laundered linens smelled too much for him to sleep because they still smelled ever so faintly of having been laundered as freshly laundered things tend to do even when you use unscented detergent.
I never question my sanity . . . . well, not since I realized it was going to insist on whispering answers to me whether I asked it or not, at least.
(Inspired by something I saw today on social media.)
This may only be funny to me, but yesterday’s entry reminded me of the time I accidentally dialed my own phone number. (It was late at night and I was running mostly on autopilot.)
Right as I realized what I had done, I heard the sound of a phone ringing on the other end of the line, so I promptly hung up because like I said, it was late, I know how much I hate it when people call me after a certain hour without a good reason, and I didn’t want to get mad at myself.
What thought am I going to post today? Oh, I know!
Wait . . . that’s funny, and it’s not really mean-spirited, but it might needlessly hurt some feelings. Maybe I should post something else.
Whoa, hang on! That doesn’t sound like me. Who am I and what have I done with myself?
I hope I’m safe . . .
*drags self out of bed*
*stumbles over to the computer to check the status of an incoming flight*
*inputs flight number and tries to read the results through bleary eyes*
*reads that the flight landed 7 years ago*
Wait . . . what?
*confirms that the screen does indeed say that the flight landed 7 years ago*
Huh . . . must have overslept . . .
L’s Mother and I haven’t had much time for each other lately with all of us being some degree of under the weather . . . and because L. is six. In fact, last night she was bemoaning this fact, so I gently pulled her into my arms and assured her that soon we’d all be feeling better again and that she’d be [Censored. SERIOUSLY Censored. Whatever you think I might have said here, it’s probably tame in comparison to what I actually said!] in no time.
Now I’m pretty good at gauging my audience, but I wasn’t 100% sure I’d said the right thing until I saw her eyes mist over as she smiled at me and asked, “Really?! Promise?!”
Today I realized that the time I spent waiting for my son to talk has now been exceeded by the time I’ve spent waiting for him to stop talking . . .
As further proof of my “almost, but not quite there” recovery state, last night I wandered into the kitchen in search of the ice cream that I hoped had been picked up earlier that day; unfortunately, that hope was in vain, so I wandered out again.
Then a bit later I wandered back in and checked the freezer again.
It wasn’t until the third time I did this that I realized that on some level I was evidently hoping that if I opened and closed the freezer enough times, eventually I’d reach the parallel universe where ice cream had actually been bought . . .
So I’m more or less recovered from what took me down last week, I’m just not sure if I should put the emphasis on the “more” or the “less” though. Case in point:
On one hand, though I remain disinclined to so, I am quite capable of heading out for needed provisioning runs again, so that’s a mark in the “more” column. On the other hand, my personal definition of “needed” is pretty sharply limited right now . . .
The first day of spring was once the time for taking the young virgins into the fields, there in dalliance to set an example in fertility for nature to follow. Now we just set the clocks an hour ahead and change the oil in the crankcase.
Candles & Curses 