I Always Feel Like...Somebody's Watching Me

Hi Internet Friends! Whoops, sorry. Speak softly, they might hear you. Eesh- I'm typing too loud. Type quietly, Mamasoo. You never know who might be watching. Or listening.

Like maybe, um, my company?

They've blocked blogger.com so I can't post from work.

They're taking the fun out of working.

Now, when my routines are running (and running, and running) I'll go out for a smoke. Except I don't smoke. So I'll go downstairs for coffee. Or tea. Or donuts salad. Or maybe I'll clean my office. Or run up 37 flights of stairs. I certainly can't work because the program gums everything up EXCEPT the internet.

But I'll find something to do.

Like write my blog on Word, send it home and copy and paste into Blogger at night. Ha! More than one way to skin a cat, Corporate Toads!

Stay tuned...

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

I had a minor scare this morning. You know the feeling- when you see something terrifying and your heart speeds up, your body goes cold but you start to sweat and you feel like you need to pee. All in a split second. That's how I felt this morning.

Everyone has a morning routine. Basically, potty, shower, dress, brush. Add a few more for those energetic morning people- coffee, exercise, read the paper, sex, put on makeup, feed the pets, do a load of laundry. Yes, I do some of those additional things. But only on Tuesday and Thursday. When I go to exercise. At the gym.

Part of my morning routine is my examination. After I potty, then weigh myself, I examine my big bad self in the full length mirror while I wait for the shower to heat up. When the mirror fogs over, I'm done. Usually I want the mirror to fog over quickly. Very quickly. But I can usually get done what needs to get done in before that happens. Everything that needs to be plucked, squeezed, scratched, popped and flossed gets done before I head into the shower. And as my family can attest, I love to examine. Not a pimple goes unpopped. Not a blackhead goes unsqueezed. Not a flap of skin gets unpicked. (Grossed out yet?) I even have a face for it. My kids call it my "picky face". Don't ask me to do it, I can't on demand. But give me a splinter to pick out or a toenail to cut and you'll see it. There is a psychological name for my disorder, but I'm not going to look it up because then that's diagnosing and that means I need more therapy. So I'll just keep my picking and prodding and poking to myself. And I guess with you.

Anywho, I was doing my examination this morning and I turned around so I could look at my back. I felt something there when I was sleeping and the thought of popping a zit on my back was exciting. (I know....) I looked up my back and for a split second saw something dark and sinister. My first thought? A skin cancerous lesion. I went cold and hot and my heart sped up and stopped all in a moment before I realized what I was looking at.

My tattoo. I had forgotten it was back there. For a second I thought I was looking at cancer. For a split second my death loomed up at me.

I guess it's a good thing my tat is where it's at. It would give me one more thing to obsess over.

Yesterday my morning routine was rudely interrupted. Potty, weigh, examine, (so far, so good)shower, throw up. Didn't even make it to "dry off."

I got a migraine in the shower and by the time I was done, it was full blown. Usually it takes a half an hour to blossom into a full blown migraine. This was less than 10 minutes. I tried taking my pills and got partially dressed before I threw up the pills, so I went back to bed and stayed there all day. Watching back-to-back episodes of Tabitha's Salon Takeover. And catnapping when the family and dogs allowed. I've still got the remnants of a headache and general wooziness but I'm going to the chiropractor after work for an adjustment. I hope that helps and knocks this one out.

Tell me about your morning routines. Anything interesting? Make me jealous.

Dreamscape #4

I quietly leave my house [the house I grew up in] in the middle of the night and walk down the block to the Corrado's house [they live no where near my old house. The house they "lived" in was actually my old neighbor's house- at least from the outside.] I let myself in since they never lock their doors and walk softly up the winding stairs to the parent's bedroom. I comment to myself that their carpet is a hideous pink color then enter the room. I stand over them while they sleep, both boys sprawled across them as they lay under the covers. I stay a few minutes, then quickly walk back downstairs, marvelling that anyone who would cover over baseboard heating with carpet was an idiot. I walk back home and wake up my kids.

They pester me to skateboard and roller skate, so in the dark I sit on the grass and watch them zoom up and down the street. After a few minutes, I told them it was time to go. They throw the skateboard and roller skates onto the stoop and we walk down the block to the Corrado's house again.

We let ourselves in and walk quietly (as quietly as kids can walk) up the stairs, back into the pink room. We stand over them as they sleep, then Zombiegirls whispers (as quietly as kids can whisper) "aww, they look so cute!", at which time the eldest Corrado boy stirs and wakes up. "What are you doing here?" he asks, at which time his mother stirs and his father wakes up. We scoop up the sleepy child and we all run down the stairs (which have miraculously transformed into beautiful light oak stairs with black wrought iron railings with small green ivy trailing down into the stairwell.) We run out the front door and down the block back toward home and deposit the child on the next-door neighbor's lawn. He crawls under the pine tree, sticks his finger in his mouth (he's 7...) and goes back to sleep. My kids grab their gear and start rolling up and down the street again, while we anxiously await his parents to come look for him.

They don't.

We go inside and leave him under the tree to live.