I have nothing tonight except some randomness.
What else is new?
Me and the randomness? We are tight, let me assure you.
1. What is with the new biodegradable bags for potato chips? Land sakes, but I hate getting chips out of them, because you announce to the entire neighborhood, “Hey! Mama’s having a little bit of Sun Chips here. Don’t mind the deafening noise!” Those bags are some kind of loudness, people. Basically this means that mindlessly eating Sun Chips in front of the TV is now a no-go for a whole lot of people, because…well…doing so simply means you can no longer hear House Hunters.
2. My contacts? Yeah. They feel like a couple of toilet plungers stuck on my naked eyeballs. It’s a nice feeling, rest assured.
3. And here’s a thought for you: How on earth can anyone other than me achieve a night of total insomnia AFTER chewing a Dramamine tablet at the carnival? Goodness, but I came home feeling like a zombie on a powerhouse sedative last night, and I couldn’t wait to crawl into bed. And then there was nothing. I laid there. And I laid there. And I laid there. And I played little games with myself, where I’d look at the clock and say, “If I fall asleep right this very, very second, I will have 5 hours and 22 minutes of sleep before the alarm goes off.” Only I wasn’t very accurate at that game, because the math skills tend to jump right over the fence with the fuzzy sheep when you’re hopped up on Dramamine. But seriously…I was so tired, I could barely brush my teeth before crawling into bed, and yet…AND YET!…I couldn’t sleep. This feeling is almost as wonderful as toilet plungers on your naked eyeballs.
4. Obviously, I was well-rested today. Actually, I was a well-rested soul with fantastic vision.
5. And sometimes I don’t tell the truth.
6. But mostly that’s just in games of Word Challenge.
7. Susan is officially so far ahead of me in Typing Maniacs on Facebook, I have decided to abandon my spiritual gift of typing. I think I may have misjudged my spiritual gift, and now I simply believe that I actually don’t possess one. I have deluded myself all of these years, believing that I had Fingers of Fire on the keyboard, but now the fire has been put out, and I have realized that I can’t type for squat. Of course, having toilet plungers suctioned onto your naked eyeballs prevents you from clearly seeing a lot of the words that drop from the sky, so sometimes you type “trough” instead of “through,” simply because you didn’t see that little h in there, and then…goodness! The anger that settles in because you forgot a letter overwhelms you, and then you can’t finish typing anything correctly. And then you lose, and Susan holds her thumb and her finger in the shape of an L on her forehead, and everyone knows that this is the universal sign for, “Hey! You’re a Loser at Typing Maniacs!”
8. The boy learned a valuable life lesson tonight. If you get a bit tearful in front of your Mam and insist that your room is a sty unfit for pigs, your Mam will volunteer to help you clean it. And having help cleaning up a landfill that you instigated is nothing short of a game-winning goal, let me tell you.
9. But the boy’s room? Ohmylands! It sparkles.
10. Sometimes my Adult-Onset Attention Deficit Disorder (which I’ve diagnosed myself with) hits hard, and I completely forget to do things that I had every single intention of doing. For instance, today is Brother’s Wife’s birthday, and I premeditated and planned a phone call to her mama and daddy, to see if I could snag a real nice snapshot of her to scan. You know, a quick picture of her wearing, say, shoulder pads. Or a prom gown. Or braces. Or even a NASCAR T-shirt while she was holding a plate of BBQ. But, lucky for her, my week got away from me, and here it is already Thursday, and…well…Thursday is her birthday. And I didn’t snag an embarrassing photo, because I never got around to calling her parents, what with all the golfing and swimming and trips to the theater and kid-watching and carnival-going that we’ve participated in this week. So the best I can do is offer you this perfectly fine snapshot of Brother and his Wife and say, “Happy birthday, Brother’s Wife. You really lucked out! And I’m terribly sorry that your birthday dinner took place at Arby’s this year.”