I think I should rewind slightly and give you a quick peak back to my new resolutions for this year.
#1- Stop eating like my dog. Not meaning kibble and floor droppings, but like as in, quit inhaling and not chewing. For that one…I get a big ole check mark of accomplishment. However, it was brought about not by sheer will power but by forcing myself to eat left handed. It started off feeling like I was more likely to poke holes in my face than actually land a bite. The bad news is that the ever adaptive clever little left hand is getting quite dexterous (as in chopsticking sushi) thus my eating pace is picking back up. I’m thinking foot feeding is next.
#2 – Write more. I guess I don’t even need to say how that’s going.
So I’ve decided I’m going to do a mid year check in and revamp a bit.
Lots has happened….I ate a pig eye ball and wigged out about everyone in sight along with most that I’ve told about it since. I had a huge test of honesty at the Homo Depot where I actually stood my ground against a minimum of 4 different people that “NO, I did not give you $50 cash even though the (bone head) cashier (who’s job I was trying to save through all my heroic efforts) put it on the receipt!! I still owe you 50 dollars!!” Finally I left the store, drove to an ATM…paid the fee…drove back to the store to take them the 50 bucks the insisted that I’d already given them. Did I mention I also lost a precious hour and half of my life trying to give away money?!! I’m insane. Also, for the record, I have not noticed the sprouting of any wings on my back nor the faint or any glow for that matter of my halo, but rest assured that I am the least likely person alive that will steal from you. Then again I’ve never been addicted to heroin and my rum supply is at a safe level. If prohibition is reinstated all bets are off.
For the last year and half or more most of my thoughts have apparently been consumed with my house and my furniture and stuff that was still in my house and my lack of ever seeing said house or said stuff. And the money that was pouring to the elusive house bladdy blah and what I was going to do about it. Every day I obsessively checked my morning activity report on how many web hits it had gotten and calculated and recalculated what I could take for it at this particular nano second since the principal had dropped 2 cent. And how long I could let the grass grow between paying some one to cut it and obsess, obsess, obsess. Welp…the house sold, my shits all here in the one proverbial sock. My bank account is all fat and happy. And me? Well, let’s just call it anticlimaticism. Look at that, I’m now described with a word that wouldn’t pass a scrabble test. I’m not a real excitable person good or bad, but I honestly didn’t realize just how devoid of emotion I’ve become. I haven’t been free of dramatics in more years that I can say. Bad divorces…houses… trashing renters… job loss(x2)… death. All the calmness has me terribly restless. I have no idea what to do with myself, which would probably explain how I can be engulfed in a 1000 page novel, a US travel guide and Crazy Aunt Purls new book “Home is Where the Wine Is” at the same time I ripped the fenders off my jeep, tackled a new bathroom floor (assisted by Mr. Man) and mutilated a pigs head for a snack….and I still need for more.
Don’t get me wrong…I am absolutely happy to be over the house/stuff drama…but what now?? My mind is wearing me out! And beware…I will eat your eyeballs if I get bored enough. I am in dangerous place right now.
