Okay, so I used the tagline from one of the worst tabloid rags of my generation. Sue me.
I seem to always be asking questions. Whether this is a blessing or a curse, a good thing or bad thing depends on who you ask. I’ve managed to infuriate many a professor or preacher without really meaning to. Anyway, I’m bored and I have a blog and you don’t, so you are going to listen to everything I have to say.
Here goes:
-I wonder if cats can be trained to do household chores. Slater likes to ‘knead’ so much, I wonder if he can be trained to do that on our backs on command. Maybe then he’ll actually earn his keep. Yeah, right, and I’m a supermodel.
-I wonder if I’m ever going to get my hip fixed, or if I should even try right now. I’ll just have to get the replacement replaced in about 20 years anyway, but that actually isn’t a huge problem. In a sense I really want to but I don’t know if it’s ever going to be a ‘good time’ with money and all that. So I’m afraid to get my hopes up and then have them dashed again. One reason I want it is because I can’t have kids until I do, but to be honest I wonder if that’s even a consideration. I’m not going to explain one of the other reasons…let’s just say I lost a lot of the motion in the left hip, and leave it at that.
-I wonder if I’m ever going to get this song out of my head:
-On the tip of #2 , I wonder if the fact that I am 32 and my ‘biological clock’ isn’t ticking at a deafening volume like those of my friends is God’s way of preparing me for not having kids, or telling me that it’s not the best idea. I’m probably overthinking, but I’m concerned about the bipolar causing problems. It’s not so much about passing it on, although that is a very distinct possibility, especially since it’s on my husband’s side of the family too. No, it’s more about not being able to get through the pregnancy without meds or possibly not being a good parent because I’m too busy throwing things at my reflection in the mirror because my husband and I can’t afford our meds and stuff for the kid too. Most of the time I don’t really ‘act mental’…in fact, my brother-in-law says he’d never have guessed that I even *have* bipolar, I seem so even-headed. *laugh* If he only knew…:) Seriously, it doesn’t usually run my life but I can’t plan on that, especially during a pregnancy. We talk about adoption, but I’m not sure that would be much better, or if the state would even *let* me adopt. We shall see.
-I wonder what I’d look like with a shaved head.
-I wonder what I did to deserve such a good husband, or what he did to deserve being saddled to me for life.
-I wonder if I’m ever going to get past this obsession I have with being clean and thinking I have body odor when my husband, friends, mother, and even doctors have been telling me I don’t. Oh well, there are worse things to be obsessed with than bathing, like Italian sausages and celebrity plastic surgery.
-I’m still trying to figure out why I should care about things like which actor’s dating who or what perfume the president’s wife’s former roommate is wearing. This is an exaggeration, but not much of one. I guess I should be happy that things are boring enough to where this stuff is all the news networks have to run, but all this reality-tv, celebutaunt stuff is making me wish for better days…like the Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky scandal. At least one person involved in that was intelligent, if only for knowing not to inhale.
-I wonder if I am ever going to work full-time again, or bring in a regular income that isn’t from the government.
-I wonder if it’s possible to walk a cat on a leash.
-I wonder what my husband would look like in a tutu.
-I wonder what people from high school and college think about how I turned out, or if I should care.
-I wonder if there’s any correlation in the facts that I have a long line of overweight alcoholics in my family and that we share our name with popular brands of Scotch and shortbread cookies.
-I wonder if I will ever get to where I don’t feel like I have to fill the silence with random stupid crap.
-I wonder if I’ll be alive to see which Nostradamus predictions and Armageddon/End-Times scenarios turn out to be true.
-I’m sure I have some sort of purpose on this planet, but I wonder if I’ll ever figure out what it is.
And, the most important question of all-
-I wonder if I’ll ever figure out that a person with hypoglycemia should take a break to eat before getting involved in a project so that she doesn’t have to suck down yogurt and sweet tea at midnight so she doesn’t feel like the room is spinning. If you notice me getting bitchier as this post goes on, that’s why. Yeah, that’s my story, I’m sticking to it.
And on that note…
I’d welcome any answers you have, or further questions…even flame mail would do. I’m still sober, I can take it.
And now I am going to shut up for a moment and line the catbox with the previously-mentioned tabloid. I’m not sure what smells worse, the trash in the box or the trash on the pages. Maybe by this time next year I’ll have figured it out. Later!
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