Sometimes, in a week when I’ve had many “major” decisions to make, my mind takes a vacation. As if rebelling against being stereotyped as a heavy lifter.
Yours, too? So I’m not alone?
Beautiful. Join me in a resolution—no heavy thoughts this weekend. Join my mind in Tahiti. Here’s the drivel mine went to this week. Just fluff like:
Is my mailman dyslexic? Or does he purposely deliver my neighbors’ mail to me to encourage us to talk more? Is he trying to moonlight as a matchmaker? If so, which person is he trying to fix me up with? They’re all either married or quite old. Maybe I should remind him of that.
Is there a program for mothers of adolescents that allows us to live in a yurt for days on end until our children stop a) smelling, b) being impudent and c) testing their limits in oh so many scary ways? We could all huddle together around the campfire and listen to old Grateful Dead songs while we hold hands and zone out. Or, better yet, maybe Canyon Ranch Spa will get smart and create a relaxation and wellness program just the length of our children’s adolescence.
Does the woman with the waist-length hair at my gym really think she is recreating Baywatch beach rescue scenes on the treadmill? She “runs” (more of a slow-motion jog, really) with a large fan positioned so it blows her hair behind her at just the right angle. And if someone walked by her from behind, would they get hair-smacked? Is that equivalent to being bitch-slapped? Would it cause a catfight? And wouldn’t she be at a distinct disadvantage because she has all that hair to pull?
Do growing male humans carry the same marking gene dogs do? I only ask because it seems they must pee and forget to flush in every single toilet of the house. And sometimes on the floor. Are they just trying to mark their territory? If so, is it considered child abuse if I just get them doggie piddle pads and retrain them?
Does everyone’s nose itch when they meditate? And is this the worst part of us trying to keep the best part of us from inching ahead? If so, why always the nose? Wouldn’t an itchy foot work just as well?
And most importantly, what does the fox REALLY say? Is it ring-ding-ding or wa-pa-pa?
That last one alone will keep your mind in Tahiti for at least the weekend.