Seriously. I hate Monday.

I wasn't feeling well this weekend so I spent Friday night and Saturday lounging on the couch sleeping. When I wasn't running for the bathroom, that is. I felt horribly lazy. And, I admit, a little decadent. Unfortunately, all that sleeping really messed up my sleeping schedule. At 1:15 am I was calculating just how much sleep my insomnia was costing me and it was ugly. Since I couldn't fall sleep I snagged Rob's copy of I Am Legend. Not the smartest move I've ever made because I'm one of those people who dream about what they last thought about. Needless to say I had very interesting, if not exactly pleasant, dreams.

I woke up around 4:20 this morning by Thaddeus using my EYEBALL as a launching pad to escape, or attack, Posey. Half awake but still lost in the world of Zombies and Vampires, I sat up in a dead panic and slapped my hand over my eye. I was absolutely terrified to remove my hand for fear my eyeball would fall out of my eye socket. I could feel the wetness on my palm and knew my eyeball was deflating and my eye lid was shredded. My heart was pounding. I couldn't breath. I was BLIND! Finally I gathered the courage and to my joyful amazement, I could SEE! The wetness was just the blood dripping from my cheek and nose which had seen a little claw action. After a vicious face wash and a paper towel pressed against the wounds, I realized I'd live. And so began another glorious Monday morning.

This is why I seriously hate Monday. And this is why mornings SUCK.

I did perk up a bit on Sunday and took Zack to see Indiana Jones. Joe didn't want to go. I didn't understand WHY, but there it is. Zack loved it. He was completely enthralled with Indy. So was I, albeit for different reasons. Since I'd watched it already I studied HF instead. He was even better the second time around. Zack came home and raved about it to Joe, who now says he wishes he'd gone. I'm digging under couch cushions and crawling around the truck for change. I'll happily take him to see it too. Three times IS the charm...

Foot-in-mouth disease

I'm pretty shy. I don't connect with people easily. In person anyway. I have a chronic case of Foot-in-mouth disease. I've had it as long as I can remember, and it's getting worse in my old age. I'm THAT woman. The one who attempts to compliment but insults instead. The one who says something completely innocent but it doesn't realize it came out obnoxious or lewd until hours later when it's too late to compound the issue by trying to clear it up. The one who catches herself mid-toe-swallow and tries to cover it up and only makes it worse in the end. There have been a lot of Morning After's where I'd swear I've seen toe nails and sock fuzzies floating in the toilet bowl. Which reminds me about a story concerning that blue beer they serve at Quarks Bar in the Star Trek Experience at the Las Vegas Hilton. It's pretty hysterical. But I'll save that for another day.

I'm much better with the written word. Preferably on a computer so I can delete, rearrange and sit on something before I release my words into the world. I seem much more intelligent that way. This is because I suffer from another chronic syndrome called BLABBER MOUTH. (BM) Once I'm comfortable with a person, which takes about six months or so, I'll start talking about something I'm completely enthusiastic about. I'll keep going and going until I realize that no, the other person is NOT having a seizure, their eyes are darting all over the place looking around desperately for an escape route from my breathless commentary. I abruptly shut up and walk quickly away in shame, while the other person is alternatively wondering where salvation came from and WHERE exactly that shut off button was so they can use it next time. Yeah, that's me.

I always seem to have so much to share. I love to make people laugh. I believe laughter is the most beautiful sound in the world, to me anyway. But sometimes I get a bit carried away. I'm really trying to work on this. Hopefully I'll find a cure before someone calls the nice men in white coats to carry ME away! Although, I might enjoy it for a while, and wouldn't THAT just be a laugh and a half?

I'm pretty sure I had a point I was trying to make when I started this post. Of course, I've had a complete brain fart and lost it through my pointless rambling on and on. So I'll just say this... Because I suffer from BM, I can pretty much guarantee every post I make will be edited a minimum of eight times, and I'll wind up cutting at least HALF of what I've written before I post anything. I hope it helps. If not, at least you were warned.