Today is my day off. I treat my days off like they are ice cream. I never want them to end, but they always do, so I am left staring into the bowl of my day with a frown wondering where all the awesome went. Sigh*
While I love my days off. I never seem to get much done on them. Mostly because I am the type that loves to sleep. I mean, I am champion at pretending that the sun does not exist. What? That thing in my face is not the sun, nope. That is just liquid moonlight. Yuppers. I have lots of time to sleep. What? Do I want to go shopping with you? It’s in the middle of the night, of course not. What? You say it’s 12 noon? Um….zzzzzzz.
Things I noticed about myself today:
I am addicted to tarot sites. It’s kinda pathetic, since any reading I do not like I tend to ignore anyway, but I click on the little buggers compulsively. I apply none of it to my decision making and I don’t really consult it the way some people do before (for example) naming their first born. I just like thinking that the fates have a plan, even if half the time I decide to ignore it when it gives me advice. Kinda like my family.
I really do need to cut back on the rocks. I collect rocks compulsively. I hear it is a Capricorn thing, and I am ok with that, but having 19 of the little buggers is starting to make people look at me funny. Maybe it’s because I have them on my side table where people usually keep their jewelry and other cool stuff. Me, I don’t care for jewelry (Although I like to wear at least one ring all the time) and I am not much for knick knacks (though one could probably state a good case for my rocks being such) Anyway, I have a rock for every place I have ever been. I have considered naming them, but my sister gave me such a disturbed look I pretended it was just a joke. heh. (We might not want to tell her I named my computer after my dad and Pixar Character Wall-e)
Having an active quirky sock collection is expensive. Mostly because my quirky socks get holes in them and then I have to buy a new pair. DAMMIT. Why are these suckers so much less wearable. Is there some clause in the universe that says the quirky socks shall get holes faster than any other socks? I have a couple pairs of those white boring sports socks. Those suckers last 300 years, but my thin cotton ankle socks are gone within a few months tops. (It doesn’t help that all the quirkiest socks tend to be $1-$5 tops in price) What? This is serious. I need these things. Otherwise my life would be an endless repetition of work and home in the same damned clothes every single day. Some women like lingerie in a rainbow of colors. Me? I prefer the quirky sock.
No matter how hard I try to like soup. I hate the stuff. Tomato soup makes me want a taco. Chicken noodle tastes like a metal can. Cream of anything makes me feel like I am drinking chewy milk. I try, because sometimes soup smells delish, but I just cannot see me eating it on a regular basis. Nope. I prefer my potato in the jacket and covered in butter.
Cards from another country beat out other cards. It’s not just the glee of getting something that traveled far away or came from somewhere you long to be. It is the stamps on the front, the card design that is guaranteed to not be anything you have already seen at the local store, and the whole someone sent me a card from England, Australia, Ireland (Insert country here). I love getting mail from anywhere, but getting it from somewhere not HERE. Is just plain awesome.
My daughter is me but even more annoying. At least, that is what I tell myself. She’s cheeky. She’s creative. She makes me roll my eyes and get exasperated by her disregard for her elders (I use that one whenever I can, but it never works. I mumble something about 18 hours of labor and she just laughs. Little brat) You know how mothers curse their kids with that saying? “I hope you have one just like you!” Yeah, well…well. DAMN. I pretend I hate it, but it is soo much fun having a daughter who you get along with and understand pretty much all the time. Although, all my negative personality traits are there as well. Those I pretend she got from her dad.
Lastly, I really do have too many things I am interested in. I love so many things. I want to learn everything. Do everything. See, photograph, write about. EVERYTHING. I am insatiable in my pursuit of the interesting. I just have nothing I am focused on. I am a dabbler. I dabble. I need to pick a life interest, but I am just too interested in everything to pick one I like best. Maybe I should consult the tarot for advice. (Snicker)