I didn't blog yesterday. It makes me feel like I have let my readers down and for that, I apologize.
I didn't feel well and although that is no excuse, what I was feeling I didn't think was excellent content to share.
Was I sick? No, not particularly, at least not like having the flu or a cold. I just felt extremely snarky and had a minuscule amount of focus. My proof reader checked on me in the afternoon, thinking I had surely fallen prey to some terrible malady.
I shared with her my condition, even though it was probably more information than she had bargained for. Kind of like saying, "How are you?" to someone and they tell you, down to the last tiny detail. It took her awhile to respond, but she thought I should share, to not censor myself.
If I were to share with you what I shared with her, you would probably have to stop reading and leave the room. So, what's my problem? Well, let's just put it this way....Remember the drop boxes that used to set around for people to be able to donate used clothing? There should be drop boxes for un-needed body parts. If there were such drop boxes I would pull up and gladly deposit my no longer good for anything uterus into its depths. Yes, I could shoot that baby from the 3 point line and follow it up with a couple of ovary curve balls.
It's not a serious thing going on, just an annoying one. Given my age, I should be done with this crapola.
More information than you needed? Probably.
Then my husband called me and needed me to go to the store for him. I felt like telling him to take a flying F at his dunkin donut coffee he was out of, but I didn't.
My 3 year old granddaughter decided at the last minute she did not want to go to school. I have her for approximately four hours a day, four days a week. She can go from angelic to demonic in less than three seconds flat, much like her mother could do. I was sure we were going to get through the morning without her head spinning, but no, it didn't happen that way. She laid on the floor and wailed about going to school and needing her mother. I tried to explain to her that if I had to call her mother, it wasn't going to be pretty, but trying to reason with a spinning 3 year old head is nearly impossible. I finally told her I felt like crying too and she needed to keep that from happening. That's all it took, by the time we got out the back door, she was all smiles. Seeing her "G" a blubbering mess must have sounded far worse than going to school.
I did make the trip to the store and by the time I drove past the city limit sign, the dark black cloud that had been hanging over my head began to dissipate.
It's funny, the day before yesterday I was in a deep soulful mood, contemplating the vastness of the universe. In less than 24 hours I was transformed into someone who could have stuffed the trunk of my car full of dead bodies and gone for a road trip without a second thought of that being odd. Yes, being of the female species, we are granted the inalienable right to justifiable homicide during certain segments of any given calendar month.
I could have also used some other analogies for today's story. Like references to certain products in the meat department at the local grocery store.....mainly liver. But I'm sure there are a couple of guys who did not take today's title seriously.
As most ladies will agree, men haven't a clue.
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