the invasion of random thought
Remember word association? Phychologists use it as a tool. Children use it as a game. Picture those childhood days spent with a close friend or two saying the first word that pops into your head. My brain never outgrew it. My mind never developed the ability to stick to one thought for more than a few seconds.
When I was younger, as tangent queen, I always remembered to somehow bring it back to where I started. Now, not so much. Follow with me, if you will, as I chase these random thoughts around the office, as they dodge between the scattered evidences of a large, untidy family.
Why does the dog have to take his food out of the bowl to eat it? Does he enjoy watching TV so much that he has no choice but to obey the impulse to bring mouthfuls into the living room, drop them on the floor, and consume most, but never all of the food therein?
Is it worth it to make the old wood floors look better by covering them with laminate that has some trouble holding up to my kids in the dining room? We can't refinish the wood. It's been done too many times, and there isn't enough thickness left to work with.
Am I up to the challenge of making my kids spend less time on their computers when I don't feel like getting off of mine?
I wonder if I can get by with vacuuming the curtains or if I actually have to take them down and wash them. I don't feel like thinking about that today, so I will put it off until at least tomorrow.
Am I afraid to let go of procrastination because it is the one constant in my life?
How does one explain to a 3 year old that "baby shows" do not have to be on two different TV's at the same time?
Why do the bubbles in a bottle of soda collect around the top edge of the liquid as it gets lower? Is this the backwash making that edge slightly dirty (like pollution in a stream)?
Why are there so many computer parts lying around my house?
Will I remember to take my eldest to his first job interview Thursday?
Why is my ankle bone visible for the first time in weeks on the very day I am supposed to go to the doctor about it?
How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? And where do woodchucks live anyway?
Why do my fingers misbehave when I have loads to say, but type perfectly when I am doing nothing but babbling incessantly about nothing?
If one is sick of the sound of their own voice and the sight of their own type, why do they continue spewing?
Why do some bruises turn purple while they are healing and others turn brownish-green?
What is an organized way to keep all of those darn lids when I don't even have enough cabinet space for the things they belong to?
Where are all of the rechargeable batteries?
And, of course, what deeper questions am I trying to avoid by concentrating on silly nonsense?
When I was younger, as tangent queen, I always remembered to somehow bring it back to where I started. Now, not so much. Follow with me, if you will, as I chase these random thoughts around the office, as they dodge between the scattered evidences of a large, untidy family.
Why does the dog have to take his food out of the bowl to eat it? Does he enjoy watching TV so much that he has no choice but to obey the impulse to bring mouthfuls into the living room, drop them on the floor, and consume most, but never all of the food therein?
Is it worth it to make the old wood floors look better by covering them with laminate that has some trouble holding up to my kids in the dining room? We can't refinish the wood. It's been done too many times, and there isn't enough thickness left to work with.
Am I up to the challenge of making my kids spend less time on their computers when I don't feel like getting off of mine?
I wonder if I can get by with vacuuming the curtains or if I actually have to take them down and wash them. I don't feel like thinking about that today, so I will put it off until at least tomorrow.
Am I afraid to let go of procrastination because it is the one constant in my life?
How does one explain to a 3 year old that "baby shows" do not have to be on two different TV's at the same time?
Why do the bubbles in a bottle of soda collect around the top edge of the liquid as it gets lower? Is this the backwash making that edge slightly dirty (like pollution in a stream)?
Why are there so many computer parts lying around my house?
Will I remember to take my eldest to his first job interview Thursday?
Why is my ankle bone visible for the first time in weeks on the very day I am supposed to go to the doctor about it?
How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? And where do woodchucks live anyway?
Why do my fingers misbehave when I have loads to say, but type perfectly when I am doing nothing but babbling incessantly about nothing?
If one is sick of the sound of their own voice and the sight of their own type, why do they continue spewing?
Why do some bruises turn purple while they are healing and others turn brownish-green?
What is an organized way to keep all of those darn lids when I don't even have enough cabinet space for the things they belong to?
Where are all of the rechargeable batteries?
And, of course, what deeper questions am I trying to avoid by concentrating on silly nonsense?
Labels: nonsense
posted by atypical at
10:26 AM
3 Comments:
I do this too! n fact - shocked and horrified people when I've let them listen...lol
I have answers to some of your questions - do you care?
By
spidermama, at 11:36 AM
i bet you know the bruise one, and possibly the woodchuck one. Yes, I actually do care. I am too curious for my own good.
-me
P.S. You never horrify me :)
By
atypical, at 12:34 PM
The bubbles in a glass of soda stick to the side because the surface tension of the liquid holds them there.
I am told that a woodchuck would chuck all the wood if a woodchuck could chuck wood. And woodchucks live in boroughs all up and down the east coast, making them the nemesis of horse owners. There is probably one very close to your home.
The rechargeable batteries are in hiding. Wouldn't you hide from someone who electrocuted you every time you got tired?
By
Anonymous, at 9:16 AM
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