Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Whatcha Thinkin'?

There are many questions I almost always hate to be asked. "What were you thinking?" "Where's Brynna?" "Did you remember to..?" just to name a few. But the question that I hate most, absolutely most in the universe?

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

The Husband asks me this question approximately 17 times a day. Anytime I'm not randomly prattling on, in fact. The man just can't seem to handle silence. And while I sympathize (Yes, my TV is always on because I don't like the house to be too quiet, thankyouverymuch) I just don't understand the fascination.

There are two reasons why I don't like to share what I'm thinking.

One: It's like asking what's in the junk drawer. Okay, sometimes I'm worried or dwelling on something and there is one pressing issue at the forefront of my mind. Most times, however, my mind is like a hodgepodge. Here, for instance is what I'm thinking right now:
  • Still didn't get that stupid crochet post written.
  • Still don't have a picture of Grandma in her shawl for the next crochet post
  • Can't tell Grandma that's why I want it or I'll never get it
  • The hot water knob isn't quite on all the way on the tub. I wonder what I can do to fix that. Besides beat it with a covered hammer, I mean.
  • I wonder if Brynna's feeling better today. I hate taking her to school when she's still not all the way awake.
  • I wish I'd had more sleep last night.
  • I should be doing work.
  • I hate Hot Pockets.
  • I also kinda love Hot Pockets, for the record.
  • Coffee.
  • No, wait, Mountain Dew.
  • Whatever, caffeine.
  • I can't believe that the pictures on my desk are so old. Seriously, you'd think I hadn't had pictures taken since Maren was born.
  • I wish I could have pictures done this summer.
  • Maybe at Christmas time.
  • I like Christmas pictures.
  • I wonder if I can manage to get Brynna's hair cut before graduation.
  • I have a headache.
  • I want to clean off my desk, but I don't want to look like I'm not busy.
  • Because, clearly, writing this, I must be swamped.
You see. Crap. Tons and tons of stuff. This is not unusual. This is pretty much always what's going on in there. Sometimes, there's more Buffy, or Doctor Who. I spent half the day yesterday, randomly worried about Amy Pond. Which is bizarre, not just because she's a fictional character (which isn't at all weird for me, I regularly dream about fictional characters, that's how much inside my own head I live), but also because it was Tuesday and the Doctor is on Saturdays.

Two: None of it is all that interesting. If it was interesting, I'd say it out loud. I mean really. Does anyone, ANYONE, care about when I get family pictures done next. No, you don't. Some of you may want to see them when I get them done, but no one wants to be privy to my inside-my-head-sort-of-scheduling-in-terms-of-seasons-and-holidays. And haircuts. Please. No one wants to know this stuff. When something important pops in there, I share it. When I'm not sharing, it's because I'm realistic about what people actually want to hear from me.

Sometimes. Sometimes, I realize halfway through a really long story that I am not making any sense and that I have been telling this story, which isn't that funny, for ten minutes. But, I'm dedicated now. I can't help it. I started this thing and now I have to finish it. It's not like I can stop halfway through and say, "Sorry, I just realized how boring this is. Nevermind." Because then people feel like they have to reassure me that it's not boring and they want to know. But, of course, they are lying to make me feel better. A gesture which I usually appreciate greatly, but sometimes, well, I think I'm off track...

Anyway, don't ask me what I'm thinking is the upshot here. I'll tell you if you care. I promise.

* Happy Birthday to my mommy! Please wish her well in the comments as she could use a very happy birthday right about now, as she is going to my little brother's award ceremony tonight, which is awesome, but not very birthdayish and as I am only halfway done with her present. Because I suck. Help me make it up to her. She's 29. Again.

*I also resolve, here and now, and vow, forever more, to stop making promises about posts I intend to post. I had every good intention of doing a crochet post, but I seem to have lost my card reader, so I have to bring my card to work to get my pictures off of it, and yes, I am technologically stunted. I need an iPhone. Anyone wishing to contribute to the Jessi Needs an iPhone Fund may contact me right away. Keep in mind, it's not so much the cost of the phone, but the service, so this is a big fund.

4 comments:

Mrs. Allroro said...

Happy Happy Birthday to your mommy. I'm older than her now.

Orlandel said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Orlandel said...

Oopps!

Thank you Mrs. Allroro!!! I keep telling Jessi that someday you guys will wish you were back to 29. (I will still be 29 then too ;-> However, my sister says I'm looking pretty bad for a 29-year-old.

Jenn-Jenn, the Mother Hen said...

Oh, Jessi! How similarly it seems our minds work. The best description I have ever come with as to how my mind works is, "I have a one track mind that often gets derailed." I'm glad to know I'm not the only one in the world with this affliction.

And happy birthday to your momma, whom I have never met, but think she must be fantastic because she had you!