Thursday, June 23, 2005

Insufficient Lint Brush

Yes, a lint brush won't work on this.
Can you see this, dear readers?
Right here...
The stuff on my shoulder, do you know what that is?
I do.
That's grey matter.
I think it's been oozing out of my ears for a couple weeks now, but I didn't notice until recently.
I think it was Monday when I figured it out.
There it was, another blob of grey matter sitting there on my shoulder. I've just been brushing it off; no big deal. A bit sticky, but smelled of vanilla taffy, so nothing to worry about.
It took me a while to figure it out. But I did. Finally...
I knew a long time ago that not going back to work would have adverse affects.
The introduction on this blog tells it all; "Don't want to end up like a drooling nutcase..." I feel I may be on that path. No wait...I'm there!
I noticed that all my posts as of late have been about the kids.
Except recently where I got out a glue stick and construction paper and made a candy wrapper collage. That was the red flag, the blue light, the warning shot.
I need grown-ups. I need big people. I need help.

I was talking with friends last week. They were going on about the G8 summit, and what a hassle it was going to cause us all.
I had no clue what they were talking about.
I hid this fact by fussing over the baby, but I listened.
Government leaders coming to Edinburgh?
A huge parade?
Bob Geldof telling thousands of folks that we here would gladly give our floor space and spare bedrooms to strangers to make G8 work?
Pres. Bush not allowed to stay in Gleneagles because there's no hotel to put up all of his private Navy unit?
I had no idea.
I haven't read a newspaper in months.
I never see the six or seven o'clock news, that's bathtime and bedtime hours. I go to bed myself before ten.
I felt minute, miniscule and...a bit like Gracie Allen but without the charm and fine dress sense.

I don't really know what to do about it.
If I still lived in the city I'd go to a museum or something. I'd talk to strangers at the bus stop; probably about G8, and I'd know a thing or two.

If you see me, or someone that looks like me, with a blob of grey matter on their shoulder; be kind. I probably won't understand what you're talking about.

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