Friday, June 29, 2012

Isn't it ironic?

In order to have a beautiful garden which attracts butterflies, I tend have a lot of caterpillars in my flower beds.  Caterpillars eat massive quantities of flowers.  By the time these little fellers emerge from their cocoons, the flowers are drooping and the butterflies hover across the fence where pesticides are king and poisoning is used to prevent the occasional bird splat on patio cushions.  To quote a very popular song, "Isn't it ironic?"  

I don't know where I'm going with this.  Most likely - nowhere.  It's merely an observation.

I've also noticed, as of late, that I've been craving Coke Slurpees, Hostess Vanilla Zingers, and copious amounts of Fritos drenched in melted cheese.  This is not a healthy lifestyle development.  Thank goodness I'm always broke.

To piggyback on the previous topic, I am absolutely not pregnant.  I'm 45 years old.  Yes, I love sex but to reiterate, I'm 45 years old.  Miracles are still known to occur but I don't believe Thornton, Colorado is on God's Top 40 List of Supernatural Hot Spots. My dear friends and blog readers, let's not even debate this.

Whatever I nibbled on an hour ago (and it wasn't a Coke Slurpee, a Hostess Vanilla Zinger, or copious amounts of Fritos drenched in melted cheese) has left a very disturbing taste in my mouth.  This makes me want to brush my teeth; however, my back hurts.  What does this have to do with the thick, gooey slime coating my teeth?  In the grand scheme of things, nothing except that I'm using it as an excuse not to move.  Sadly, this has me contemplating the stale coffee which has been sitting beside my laptop for the last two days.  I am a very gross individual.

I'm in denial.  I've been on the cusp of a deep dark for about a week now.  I'm in need of something - no, not my junk food cravings though that would certainly help - something to bring me back up and out of my depression.  My husband just came home and suggested sex.  Again, irony?  Most likely.  For the time being, and as much as I'm always game, for now I sweetly smile and say, "I have a headache."  The interesting thing is, it's the absolute truth.

My dog, Tulip, licks herself to the point of excessive nastiness and then believes it's perfectly acceptable to lick me while I'm breathing with my mouth open.  Do dogs have zits?  Random.

I don't like the sound my overhead fan makes when it's turned on; however, I don't like it when it's off and sweltering in my bedroom.  If I stick my earplugs in to avoid the noise then I become resentful of the fan because my earplugs annoy me.  If I don't wear them, I want to tear the fan from the ceiling which will most likely cause a house fire.  This will eventually lead me to standing in the sweltering heat because I'm homeless, begging for money on a street corner, and daydreaming about Coke Slurpees, Hostess Vanilla Zingers, and copious amounts of Fritos drenched in melted cheese.  It's a vicious, nasty cycle.

That's all.  This is all my brain can focus on.  My husband is determined that I don't have a headache.  He better not attempt fate.  I haven't brushed my teeth yet.