Jumbled Thoughts
Posted in life on June 16th, 2010 by emmajames
by hurleygurley/flickr
I’ve been acutely aware each day, for the past few, that I haven’t written anything in this space. Since the inception of Pleasure Notes, I’ve only succeeded in creating daily ramblings during one month, despite my continued desire to write every day. I don’t beat myself up over the gap between desire and reality in this regard, or at least not usually. But for some reason, it’s currently driving me crazy. Perhaps it’s because I’ve committed to 21 5 800 and I believe that the community created by challenges is best served when the participation is public. It could also be that I love this space so much, and the creative outlet it provides is such a highlight in my life at the moment, that I’m uber-aware of my own absence. When I do show up here, however, I like to at least strive for coherency. And there’s the rub.
by Sabrina Campagna/flickr
At the moment, my thoughts are so jumbled that I’m more likely to land on the moon by day’s end than find any degree of coherency in my mind. Poor brain.
***
As I mentioned, I now resemble Uncle Jeb’s third cousin once removed because of some dental hi-jinx. It seems that was not horror enough. Over the weekend, I momentarily forgot that bed posts are solid and decide to slam my toe into one, leaving me crippled for a day and contemplating x-rays and crutches. Yesterday, my thumb suddenly decided to lay siege to the poorly defended carpal tunnel. And in a mysterious turn of events that has nothing to do with the increased availability of mini soy ice cream sandwiches at my local Trader Joe’s, I have added a new tire to my Michelin-envying waist.
by NuageDeNuit/flickr
My body has betrayed me and now I will never be cast in the remake of Catwoman!
***
I fear that I am THIS CLOSE to becoming a shut-in, and I blame it all on my furry feline friend, Bella. I grew up with dogs. I also grew up ridiculing people who owned cats. Now, I have one. What’s worse?
Eating cat hair with every meal, and finding it woven through every piece of fabric that has ever entered my home, no longer fazes me.
by exper/flickr
Also, the torrid, entangled affair that cat hair and dust bunnies seem to be carrying on in every nook and cranny of my truly humble abode is downright unseemly, and it is for this reason alone that I’m leaving them untouched.
One benefit of maintaining this level of filth love on all surfaces is that, like fog, it reflects light in interesting and unusual ways. I can pretend I have a floor covered in disco balls.
***
I should be pregnant. I already have the silhouette. I’m hungry all the time but NOTHING IS SATISFYING, not even chocolate. My boobs have enough storage space to hold milk for quintuplets, at least, and are in dire need of something to restore them to gravity-defying plumpness.
by Pikaluk/flickr
Of course, there is the prerequisite of sex, and I’d have more luck finding a cow to tip on the streets of Los Angeles than engaging in that 3-letter word at the moment.
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I would have made a great heiress.
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I will never be an Olympic gymnast. Damn you, Nadia, for putting the idea in my head!
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Why do I love office supplies and kitchen utensils so much when my fondness for offices and kitchens is so tepid?
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Will I ever have a coherent thought again?
by vaXzine/flickr
Welcome to my world. How are things looking in yours?
