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I have been looking forward to this moment all day, to where I can sit with my laptop and write. I have been imagining all day what it is that I will write about. And now that it’s time? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

It’s not that I can’t write or am not thinking. It is simply that I am thinking my thoughts so rapidly there is no way to keep pace with them. One thing leads to another, to another, to another. There was once a guy who compared a woman’s thought process to tangled barbed wire. Never have I found a better example. I can be thinking about work which causes me to think about the co-worker I dread seeing. Thinking of that co-worker can lead to imagining driving away from work. And then, oh yeah! The thoughts switch to needing to get the car in the shop for an oil change. The oil reminds me of how it poured rain today and made rainbow patterns on the pavement. Then I think about cracks in the pavement and wondering WHAT the heck brought me to thinking of this. Then some weird random thought about taking a shower, even though I don’t need one. But the thought of a shower fills me with dread as I hate the evil necessity of the bathing process.

First you have to take off your clothes after starting the shower. While waiting for it to heat up, it’s an toss up  choosing where to place my glasses in a place I’ll remember to find them, or remembering I need a towel and digging through my ever growing pile of dirty laundry on the floor in hopes of finding a cleanish one before remembering there is a clean one in the linen closet. By this time, the shower water is generally warm enough to sneak my way in through the end of the shower furthest from the water. Then, in final resignation, stepping fully in the water and completing the showering process. Wash hair, rinse, condition, shave arm pits, wash face, shave other necessary bits, wash body, rinse out loofa, rinse hair, wring out hair. Turn off the water, open the door and grab the towel off the sink. Then comes the tricky bit. The bath tub/shower is pretty tall and has sliding doors. I generally have to cling desperately to one of the sliding doors while I gingerly step out and thank the Good Lord that I have a shower mat and don’t have to worry about two slippery surfaces to contend with. So then I have to try and dry myself off and it ends up being an annoying process as I have to repeatedly dry off the same body parts 2 or 3 times before I give up and just wrap my hair in the towel and saunter out of the bathroom in my birthday suit. Try to, anyway. Inevitably, like every time before, I slip on the way out of the bathroom and almost carreen headfirst in a sidelike fashion into the doorframe before catching myself. Every. Single. Time. I can’t remember the last time I HAVEN’T slipped after a shower.

It makes me glad I don’t flat iron my hair very frequently, because it doesn’t matter HOW CAREFULLY you spray your head with a carpeted or toweled area beneath you, that spray ALWAYS manages to find its way onto the tile or wood.

So, as I have said, my mind is like tangled barbed wire. One thought leads to many, and it’s rare I can actually remember how I got to said current point. Even as I write this, I lit up a cigarette, and forwhatever reason, it made me think of Batman. Christian Bale’s Batman to be specific. And then how I love the way the masks make the chin look so rugged and manly.

So then with thinking about rugged, manly chins…it makes me think about my dream guy. Tall, defined, big rough hands, square jaw, blond with green eyes…and eyebrows. The bigger and bushier, the more attracted I am. It’s the weirdest thing, really. My mom likens my taste to the neanderthalic type of guy, purely because she says I am so manly myself. She doesn’t mean it in a bad way at all, but she said I need a man who makes me feel like a woman, and it IS true.

And then again, I’m off on a completely different tangent. So I think it is time for THIS post to end and create a new one for a new story of my crazy life.