I don't think my body knows how to handle this day. It's all like, "hey, Brain, dude what do I do?" And Brain replies, "I don't know dude, but you're freaking me out!"
I'm not sure why both my body and my brain sound like surfers.
Today was emotional to say the least, and to put the icing on the cake, I have consumed far more sugar than a type 1 Diabetic should ever consume...hahaha...which is exactly like putting icing on the cake! Don't worry, I've compensated with insulin, but that doesn't mean it didn't still fuck me up a little.
I was sad when I got to work, then two things happened simultaneously to make me feel like the universe was sending me the message that it would just be best if I crawled into a bunker for a few years, just until the dust settles. I actually cried at work about nothing work related.
I'm sure that was loads of awkward for my two coworkers.
They were having a bake sale at the bank, and I hadn't eaten breakfast yet, so I bought fudge. Now, when I bought said fudge (which had nuts yet was going to help me feel less so) I spent my laundry money on what I thought would be MINE! But then my coworker also bought treats with the intent to share, and not sharing my fudge when she is sharing her cookies and banana bread is just plain douche-y. Especially when she has told me about her displeasure and financial hardships because I am getting mondo hours while our boss is away and she is not. So, I shared my fudge. Boo. But I got to also eat cookies and banana bread. Yay! Which was my breakfast. Yayboo?
When lunch rolled around I ate my left overs (lasagna and bread) also carbs, and between breakfast and lunch there was one more piece of fudge, then another after lunch, then some carrot cake when I got home.
I feel a little like that girl from The Ring who is really far away one moment and then really close the next.
Why did I write that? Now I feel like that AND I'm scared.
AND I'M HOME ALONE!
Why did I just write that? Now every Tom, Dick and Harry (which all sound like violent sex offenders to me) will know I'm home alone! Listen up, sex offenders, I have a very large dog trained to attack the nutsack of any would be attackers!
So, I've been pacing my apartment trying to figure out what to write about, but coming up with only really strange things.
No one's feet have ever been as cold as mine are right now. Which is a blatant lie. Some poor schmuck climbing Everest is probably losing toes as we speak to the cold. Which just makes me a giant sack of crap for thinking I have it worse than that unfortunate mountain climbing soul.
Why is it ten lords a-leaping? Why are those lords leaping? Are they leaping onto their horses to go rob their tenants of their hard earned money? Why do the tenants take that shit? Why don't they band together and send that leaping lord running for the hills, then form a co-op and all take turns being lord? That's what I would have done. Even in the seventeenth century I would have been a hippie. When was Patchuli "invented"? Hopefully long after that, because that particular fragrance is the one thing keeping me from being an all out hippie. That and I feel cleaner when I shave.
Where did the term yuppie come from? To me it sounds better suited to a very agreeable hillbilly and/or pound puppy.
How long does sugar make you feel like this? I should really know the answer to that particular conundrum, being all Diabetic for nearly three decades. My blood sugar is not high, but I feel peculiar.
Peculiar is a good word, I should use it more often. Does it make me sound peculiar when I peculiarly use the word peculiar in peculiar sentences? Now I don't think it's even a real word. Like awkward and crick. Like that time I wrote an ex-boyfriend's name so many times on the envelope to his birthday card that by the end I was convinced I had spelled it wrong from the start. I had to look at a card he gave me to even start believing Todd was spelled with two ds. And even then, there was a small part of me that thought he may have spelled it wrong to be funny because EVERYONE knows you spell Todd with one d.
Everyone but me.
Why exactly do we teach our children that it is okay to commit breaking and entering if you bring presents? And sometimes it doesn't even have to be a real present. Really, Santa, an orange in my stocking? If I had been a little less unicorns and rainbows as a child I think I would have thought he was just casing the joint AND he would know about all the cool stuff I just got! Oh, he's a patient one, that Claus, biding his time over all these years. But for what? I would have thought he'd strike while the iron was hot that one year I got the Strawberry Shortcake castle. Poor, stupid Santa, it's never going to get any better than that.
Yeah, so that's where my brain is, if you can figure out exactly where that is, you will be one step ahead of me and my body. Maybe he's out catching a gnarly wave.