||[Nov. 23rd, 2011|10:51 am]
Okay, one project completed and I need to re-boot before I start the next one. (Like training a dog, my brain wants a biscuit when it does a trick. Oh, wait. My brain wants positive reinforcement after it has performed a requested behavior). |
I’m using nugget because you rarely see that word any more unless it’s being led around by Chicken. And that’s a shame. Maybe. Like the word “cookie” the more you look at it, the creepier it becomes.
Note to self: think a little bit before grabbing a random shampoo bottle. Because you do NOT need voluminizing shampoo on a rainy/humid day. I look like a cocker spaniel that was dried in a wind tunnel. FLUFF!
There are things I struggle to throw out – toothbrushes, jackets/sweatshirts, sneakers. They simply get downgraded and I can’t seem to throw them out until I reach some critical mass…and even then, it’s HARD. Old toothbrushes become cleaning tools. Sneakers move through a continuum that begins with nice enough to wear when visiting Mom and hopefully she won’t give me a hard time for wearing sneakers; proceeds to nice enough to wear places, but have a little wear on them, so not nice enough for Mom; to hiking/basic yardwork; to really dirty yardwork or possibly painting; to I’d better save a pair in case I need to do something that would require the shoes to be thrown out afterwards. The jacket’s/sweatshirts follow a similar pattern to the sneakers – I mean, they have to reach some critical crazy mass where I realize that I have 12 pairs of sneakers in various stages of being and they effectively outnumber all of my other shoes and if the fashion police find out, they will take away my Girl card for being unable to maintain a basic shoe wardrobe.
Or the sweatshirt say, basically has to lose some key functionality in order to get thrown out – like having an ARM torn off or something. I do manage to convince myself that if I lost an actual arm, I’d probably deserve a new sweatshirt anyway, although it’s always tempting to think how awesome it would look to be missing an arm and have a sweatshirt with the arm TORN OFF, like you’d lost it recently in a velociraptor attack. But then I think oh, with my luck, I’d lose the OTHER arm.
So, this Thanksgiving, when we do the “what are you thankful for” thing, and I say “Having both of my arms”, you’ll know where I’m coming from. I won’t say “having 25 sweatshirts, 12 pairs of sneakers and 13 toothbrushes” because THAT would just be weird.
I have always joked that going through a doorway or up and down stairs was like a brainwipe for me. Especially when I worked at Unnamed Gourmet Grocery Store, where the doorway to go down to the stockroom was fashioned to look like a walk-in cooler, so you pulled a locking handle and then it whooshed shut behind you. And there I was on the other side, having completely forgotten what the heck I was going downstairs for.
Apparently, it’s not just me, which is always exciting: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/11/21/walking-through-doorways-forgetting_n_1105871.html
Here is proof that the real reason we domesticated cats was so that we could watch videos like this one and laugh until we cry. Or maybe it’s just funny to me, because Pushkin (my cat, aka Wombat, aka Thud, aka KNOCKITOFF) and Maru are clearly cut from the same cloth.
I found this very interesting – and please, my politically conservative friends, remember that this is looking at an overall group and like everything else, there are exceptions. But still. The wiring of our brains is strange indeed.
that is all
hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving