In high school, I was regularly scolded for reading books in class. Specifically in my math classes. Once the teacher noticed me following the lines of a book, I was called on to solve some ridiculous equation that I had no intention of remembering after graduation. While I completely blame good literature for my inability to solve math problems that extend beyond tens times tables, I blame math for encouraging my misplaced focus. It will be written to the man I one day marry: "You have to be good with numbers for the sake of our children". But then, if he's not, we'll just passively attack the beast together saying things like "been there", "done that", and "sorry we can't help you; welcome to our life", but we'll take those cuties out for pizza on school nights so they'll still love us.
Speaking of not focusing,
My dear sweet cousin, Mels, has recently informed me that I am the epitome of a hot mess. I was equal parts flattered and offended because at least she didn't call me a chubby mess, #amiright? She rolls her eyes and laughs when I ask her the same question multiple times within a ten minute time span. She shakes her head when I forget what street McDonald's is on and when I ask her to retell a story, bluntly explaining that I couldn't listen to her, due to the fact that I was checking off a To-Do list in my head. She does, however, show signs of irritation when I slam on my breaks at yellow lights after I've already sped up to try and catch it. But, you're jerked from your seat, caught by your seat belt, and, I mean, who doesn't that bother?
Also, I was going to clean out my refrigerator today, but didn't because I couldn't focus long enough. I picked up the bag of cuties on the bottom shelf, and the next thing I knew, I was peeling one and watching Alias. And then The Hills. And then seven Jason Aldean music videos on YouTube... which is particularly bizarre because I have a personal vendetta against Jason Aldean. I don't know what's wrong with me. All I know is that I could read act 5, scene 2 of Henry V over and over without tiring of it. I also know that most mornings, I wake up wanting to lie in my bed eating chocolate covered Banbury Cross donuts with sprinkles on them. Not just one or two, but the entire box. That wonderfully sinful thought moves to the back of my mind when I consider how doing such a thing is frowned upon in my culture. So, I usually just go to school and try to think about anything but chocolate covered donuts. I'm only ever successful on Fridays.
Plus, I'm having a major stress break out and am in the market for a new dermatologist because my other one can't fit me in until June. Annoying, but I guess it could be worse. At least I'm not desperate for a gynecologist... too far? Good. Three cheers for making you feel uncomfortable about me.