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Punch Drunk and Pack Crazy

While I'm doing these sillier posts in lieu of my usual reviews, I have been trying to to come up with ideas the best way I can. This is tough to do when I'm dealing with any kind of stress. Life in general is tough when I'm dealing with any kind of stress.

Last night, I couldn't sleep so I sat up thinking of alternate titles for past (and possibly future) posts:

  • "I Fought the Door & the Door Won" (for the time I got drunk on Mother's Day)
  • "I Can't Fly. I Can't Fly Without You" (for my fear of flying & in tribute to Nilsson)
  • "Fear Is a Many Splendored Thing" (for any of my posts on phobias)
  • "Midnight Calling" (for anyone who has ever drunk-dialed the ex-whoever)
  • "It Only Hurts When I Laugh" (for anyone whose ever had the giggles & a full bladder at the same time)
I don't even know if some of those are actual song titles, but... 

This is the way my brain works when it's tired or stressed (or, as is the case lately, both). I was sort of this strange before sarc, but I'm all the way weird now. I explain it (my tired brain, I mean) to people this way: I'm not stupid any more than a diabetic is drunk. It just seems that way sometimes.

I'm sure that one of the family cats thought I was diabetic or stupid when I had a full conversation with him about life and death and the little things in between. He might have thought I was crazy, but I'll love that cat forever because he sat there and listened to me. I'm not so fond of his sister, the haughty snoot. She gave me that uppity cat glare, licked her paw and strolled off as if to indicate she had better things to do. 
"Go away, crazy lady."

"I said, go AWAY!"


I finished the conversation with the cat, but I still couldn't sleep. So I decided to paw (heh heh) through my suitcases again to lighten the load. I picked out one more t-shirt that I know I can live without and a pair of pajamas I haven't been able to wear for two years without looking like a sausage roll. Hopefully, that's going to be enough to avoid excess baggage.

By the way, I'm going to weigh my cases tonight. I'll use the bathroom scale, weigh myself, then weigh myself holding each suitcase. It's not perfect, but it's the best I can do without dragging my luggage to Home Depot and claim that I am just there to test an industrial scale before I purchase one. As if I could afford anything more expensive than a penny candy after mailing off all those Flat Rate boxes...

So, yeah, I'm a little bit punch drunk and pack crazy right now. I might not be able to post anymore after this until I get to the Lower 48 and get somewhat settled. Hope you don't miss my crazy ramblings too much. (That's a lie. I want you all to miss me. Miss me lots!)



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