There's this dream I have, that we all have occasionally, I think. You know the one. You've missed a step and down, down you go (usually waking up before you hit the bottom). I think I may have missed a step, in real life, and I'm not sure when I'll reach the bottom. Or if I will reach it any time soon.
At the moment I'm staring at the wallpaper on my laptop. It's got the cast of Sherlock on it, and Mrs. Hudson is looking at me like she knows--she knows. She. Knows. Everything. Molly is just smirking. Obviously one needs to keep an eye on these two--they're plainly up to something. But Sherlock has one eyebrow raised, so maybe he's keeping an eye on them, who knows.
So plans are in the works for the Meg's summer visit. This excursion will involve travelling not to Knoxville, but to Chattanooga. Well, ok. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, it's still a trip you don't take lightly (especially the roundabout way I am planning on going, to avoid Knoxville and Atlanta) I always liked the area, very mountain-y in a remote way yet not like Boone where there's 300000 people crammed on a two lane road (half of which are college kids on a bender). It should be interesting.
I appear to be at that awkward age where I get pen pal requests from younger people who think age equals "experience" IYKWIM. Of course, the latest one was only 5 years younger than me, and this confuses me a little, because the term "cougar" (had to have someone remind me what that meant) really means a difference of 10 or more years, sorry folks, I'm not that much different than you. I'd understand it more if the profile picture was some sexy lady in lingerie. But no, it's a garden gnome holding a sign that reads, "really?" Sadly, the ones close to my age are a bit on the odd side (and not odd in a good way, maybe they have a thing for lawn gnomes?) or only want to talk to ladies who're like 18 or so. Sorry to disappoint. But thanks for (not) playing. Didn't want to talk to your ass anyhow.
I went back recently and looked back at some of the older posts, more specifically the ones from that first year, while I was in college. I cringe at some of the posts. Why I would write half the things I wrote then, I can only guess. It isn't that I have matured though; more like I found different stupid things to write about as time went on. ;)
Debating on which is sadder--the take-home drug test you can buy at the dollar store? Or your very own, personal breathalyzer test you can buy at the gadget store? (got news for you, if you're at the point where you voluntarily buy yourself a breathalyzer test, you may already have a problem.)
And a note, just a friendly reminder to those who fought to get that free doughnut the other day, on National Doughnut day: It's a friggin' doughnut. We drove by, just to see how crazy it was (and actually buy some doughnuts, unlike some people who apparently don't want to pay for them) . Couldn't even get in the parking lot. There were people parked in someones YARD. Fucdiculas, as my coworker likes to say. Obviously when they moved that store to that location they didn't take into account the lengths people will go for a free doughnut. The former location was in with some other stores, so the parking lot was bigger. Of course, the pressure to move may have come from the business next door.
Which was a weight loss clinic.
Go ahead. Laugh. The weight loss clinic is still at that location, I will gladly take a photo of the place if you don't believe me.
I've a mind to go back and stand at their door looking in, while munching a doughnut. Just for spite.