Furthermore

My husband is getting annoyed with the blogging. He doesn't really know what it is, but he does realize that total stangers on the Internet know more about me than the 3-dimensional people here. As the New Yorker cartoon so profoundly stated, "On the Internet, nobody knows you're a dog." Dog, of course, being a metaphor for whatever it is that causes you to feel inadequate.

My husband asked me what kinds of things I'm tapping off into cyberspace, so I said, "You know, random facts about my life." If he wants to know the truth, he has the link. He just hates to read.

Am I incoherent yet? Last night was another 4-hour sleep night, yet here it is 11:02 (58 minutes to payday), the Ambien isn't taking effect, and I'm wide awake. While I start to drift into quasi-consciousness, some facts to ponder...

• I am the telephone customer service person's nightmare


• I can competently fly a hot air balloon, but I don't do it anymore
  
• I believe that religion makes people lose all sense of logic and taken in large doses, can cause a complete loss of rational thought. Kool-Aid is a whole other issue.
  
• I swear so much when I drive, it sounds like I have Tourrette's Syndrome.
• My mother's gifts baffle me.

My mom has this habit of catalog shopping and having things shipped here. The problem is, it's usually a knick-knack. We tried to gently and politely let her know to just stop the parade of useless Chinese crap. She didn't listen, so we took all of it and put in the guest room so she could enjoy it when she visits. She's getting the point. Well, we thought so. Today we got a fake-copper beverage tub on a stand. You know--for the entertaining we never do. I told my mom that we love her and we love the fact that she thinks of us, but it would be OK if she just sent us the page from the catalog. A picture is worth a thousand words and several feet of unused floor space. At least the tub is useful and it is not a knick knack.

Laptop sliding off my lap. Time for psuedo-sleeping to commence.