I often ponder. I'm a ponderer from way back. I ponder lots of things and then I ponder whether anyone else ponders them or if I am the lone ponderer. Because OCD is my constant and faithful companion, I never know if what I am thinking about is normal or if other, so called "normal" people have the same thoughts.
It ain't easy being me. (Or being green, so I'm told.)
I think about things past, things present and things future. If I were a statue, I'd be "The Thinker"...with boobs and bronze-from-a-bottle hair, of course.
What follows is a tiny sampling of thoughts I've had just today. This will give you a glimpse into the mind of madness. Or is it brilliance? And maybe if you're a nice person, you'll email me and tell me whether you have similar thoughts.
~ Why did God make flies? I have a full blown fly phobia. If a fly so much as touches anything on my plate or lands briefly on my glass, I throw it away. In fact, no matter where I am, I always cover my glass with a napkin or whatever is available so I can keep those disgusting winged things away. If I were God, I'd make them look like pretty, little fairies so that people would be happy when they lit upon and subsequently threw up all over their food. Nobody really minds a little fairy vomit. It's filled with sequins and fairy dust and is probably a lot like a four leaf clover...lucky.
~ Why does the man I married want to be naked on my couch? I should tell you that I don't allow nakedness on my couch. In fact, that sentiment is cross-stitched in a frame which hangs over the sofa. "Please, no nakedness on the furniture." As our house is typically little boy central, he doesn't really have the opportunity to sit there without clothes on, which is good. But, leave him here for more than five minutes alone and he swears he's going to drop his pants and sit down on the sofa for no good reason. This concerns me, because love him hard as I do, I would still have to drag the thing out in the front yard and torch it if his naked behind touched it...or even hovered near it.
~ What in the world does this mean, "women are the fairer sex"? I've never understood that. Is that a comment about the lack of pigment in our skin? What kind of word is "fairer" anyway? If someone could please stop your otherwise productive life and send me an email that explains that, I would be eternally grateful. Ok. Maybe not eternally, but I'd be grateful for at least thirty-two seconds.
~ Why is it my job to buy the food for this house? I hate grocery shopping. I mean I truly have strong unpleasant feelings about buying food in large quantities. When I walk through the doors with that cart in front of me, anyone around me can easily see that I am an angry woman. I throw stuff in there at lightening speed, huffing and puffing the entire time and making loud comments to no one in particular that I'd rather have my teeth drilled than have to walk down the jelly and salmon aisle. The one saving grace is my beloved Frozen Pea Guy. He's gorgeous and I anxiously await the day Wal-Mart comes out with a "Hot Guys of the Grocery Store" calendar.
~ Where did Molly Ringwald go? This really bothers me. She was the stuff, wasn't she? I never really got what made her so appealing to boys, but clearly she had a testosterone magnet in her boobs cause in every movie, the cute boy wound up loving her awful. Did she grow up to be ugly or fat or something equally embarrassing? Did she marry Duckie and have little ducklings? Am I remembering that correctly? Was the guy's name really Duckie? I'm worried about her people. If you know where Molly Ringwald is, let the rest of us know.
I gotta stop pondering for today because I have to go throw my hair in a pony tail, put on dark glasses and hunt for food at Wal-Mart. It sucks to be me. Keep your fingers crossed that Frozen Pea Guy says hello to me.
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