A Glimpse into the Neurotic (or just plain crazy) Brain

I'm sure you are aware by now that my brain doesn't really function like a normal person's brain. I start off with a normal enough thought, but then it quickly derails and heads straight for Crazytown at supersonic speeds. That causes me to make a decision based off crazy logic instead of real logic. Usually it's with inconsequential stuff so it doesn't really do any harm. Like my most recent thought-process about lottery tickets. The potential lottery winnings reached to nearly half a billion (yes, billion) dollars so I considered spending the $2 for a chance to be on easy street for the rest of my life. And that's as far as I got with any semblance of normal thought. Because from there my mind jumped to this:

Knowing my luck, I'll buy a lottery ticket, and then win the jackpot, and then, after my first check gets cashed, I'll get struck by lightening and die before I ever have a chance to spend a dime. And then Harry will get all the money, which is fine, I want him to have it because he'll use it to make sure the kids are set for life. But then he'll meet some cheap, gold-digging floozie and she will use her stupid, sneaky, gold-digging woman charms to convince Harry to marry her, and she'll be the evil stepmother that my kids read about when they were little in all those fairy tales and she'll steal all the money left to Harry that he would have used for the kids, and they'll all be miserable and have terrible lives. All because Harry went and married some stupid, selfish bimbo. 

I CAN'T BELIEVE HE WOULD GO AND MARRY SOME BIMBO AND LET HER HAVE ALL MY MONEY! AND I'M NOT EVEN DEAD YET!!! THAT BASTARD! 

And then the logic kicks back in for a second and I realize that was a totally random, completely ridiculous thought. BUT, because I had that thought, I'm somehow convinced that if I buy a ticket, all of that might actually happen. So I decide I can't buy a lottery ticket because I don't want to die and leave my kids to be miserable for the rest of their lives. Harry, however, I don't feel so bad for because he's the one that was stupid enough to marry a dumb, gold digging, bimbo. And then, finally, real logic makes its way back into my brain. And I realize how silly that whole train of thought was. Because even if I do buy a ticket, I'm never going to win the lottery. So I bought a ticket. And, thankfully, I didn't win.

That kind of thought process happens more often than I care to admit. But, like I said, it's pretty harmless so no big deal. I'm getting better at realizing how crazy my thoughts are in those cases, so I feel pretty confident that no real damage will be done to anyone else. However, there are times where my neurotic paranoia can be kind of dangerous for other people. Fortunately, I have Harry around to tell me that it's not them, it's me.

We just came back from a fun little weekend getaway in the mountains. Very near Nature (thankfully we stayed in the filtered, concrete-laden, busy tourist area and never ventured out into the gross wilderness where all the insect-infested animals live), but far enough away that I could appreciate it from within my air conditioned hotel room. The road trip there was fun and we stopped at goofy places along the way and generally had a great time. On our way back home though, we stopped at a gas station/mega mart and decided to get some snacks for the trip back. I was looking for a specific candy bar and was lamenting how no one seems to carry it anymore when out of nowhere some stranger (i.e. Murderer) started talking. Directly to me. 
"You know you can get those down the street at the other gas station. I seen them there all the time. You know what place I'm talkin' 'bout? It's right off the main drag, near the mountains."

I quickly stepped back closer to Harry, while maintaining eye contact with the Murderer (because if you don't, you're more likely to die), and just nodded my head and mumbled "Great, thanks," then I turned and went down the next aisle. I was looking for Mace. Harry saw me intently perusing the items in that aisle and asked me what I was looking for. I told him I was looking for something to keep the Murderer at bay should he get any strange ideas about following us because clearly he had bad intentions. Harry stared blankly at me for a minute, then sudden realization washed over him.

"Uh, you know he was just being friendly, right? People do that here. They talk to people they don't know. Because. They're. Friendly. And. Like. To. Be. Helpful. Put the pepper spray down, we're not buying it."

It's a good thing I have this man in my life. Although between you and I, I'm not entirely convinced we didn't narrowly escape a terrible, painful death. See what buying lottery tickets gets you? Near death experiences.

School Daze

As most of you are now aware, I have some paranoia issues. And OCD. And probably a dose of ADD thrown in for good measure. At any rate, because I’m married to a man that has yet to be run off by my...quirks...he takes my freak outs about various situations (mostly imagined, but could totally possibly be real & happen, so it totally counts as legitimate!) in stride. Usually he's very supportive & understanding. 

However, sometimes he doesn't fully grasp the severity of the potential threat about which I'm panicking, and thus ends up being snarky and sarcastic instead of supportive. I guess no one's perfect. Anyway, every year since my kids were old enough to go to school, on the very first day, I would either walk them to the bus stop, or when they got too "old" to be escorted, I would watch compulsively from our kitchen window to make sure they did indeed get on the bus and not kidnapped by murderers intent on abducting my children and throwing them into the back of a rape van so they could be sold off into slavery never to be seen or heard from again. 

Don’t ask me why it’s only a First Day of School (FDoS) freak out and not year round. It just is. And it’s vital that I physically see them get on the school bus. Because what if those murderers tried to grab them or lure them away with candy or puppies and I hadn’t noticed because I just assumed they wouldn’t have any problems? Would that be any comfort while they were being repeatedly drugged & tortured in some dirty, smelly shack? NO, it most certainly would not. Never mind the fact that the bus stop is literally 10 steps from our door. Or that even if I did see puppy & candy-wielding murderers abducting my kids, I'd still be too far away to stop them. Or that both our kids are black belts. Or that my 13 year old son is bigger & looks older than some of the 16 year olds in our neighborhood, and that my daughter dresses like such a freak I'm fairly certain most folks in the area are afraid of her. It’s possible, and that posibility is all that's needed to freak me out. 

However, this year because of my work schedule, I was unable to perform my annual task of making sure they weren't kidnapped by murderers. My beloved husband pre-empted my inevitable freak out & reassured me that he would take over this duty and be ever diligent to make sure they made it on the school bus safely. I went to work, my mind at ease knowing my husband (who is also a 2nd degree black belt, thus much more capable of catching and disabling said murderers) had taken me seriously and would prevent any wrong doing from happening. I should have noticed him rolling his eyes...

So, when I got to work this morning, upon opening my email, I received this from my beloved:

"The kids are off to school. Both got on their busses okay and only had to fight off 2 or three waves of puppy and candy wielding kidnapper ninjas before doing so. Here is a picture I made for you to remember the kids' first day of school this year! Have a Superwonderful day!

P.S. Just be aware this is an artist's rendering of this morning's events, not an actual photograph. Also it is only *based*on actual events...some liberties may have been taken, and names have been changed to protect the innocent."

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Today was also Harry’s first day back at school. He’s gone back to get his Masters so he can teach Middle/Junior High School kids. Why he would voluntarily work with hormonal, newly-minted teenagers is beyond me. Although he puts up with me on a regular basis, so I imagine teenagers are probably not as exigent (thought I’d use an SAT word since school is back in session and everything...I had to look it up, hence the link...). 

Since he is making his foray back into school after a somewhat lengthy (*cough* 18 years *cough*) absence, Harry was worried about being so much older than the other students on campus, but I reassured him that it wouldn’t be that big a deal. Of course he’d make friends and fit in! How could he not? After all, those kids are going to need someone to buy them beer! For some reason, that sentiment wasn’t as comforting as I expected.

But, just as I assumed, he had no problems at school. He even had a nice little exchange with one of his professors! Yay, Harry! Good job!