I’ve had a million stray thoughts. But every time I sit down to bring them together to share with my dear readers, something intervenes. The phone rings. Questions are fired. People check in because the snow is freezing our brains but thawing our worries. Speaking of that, hope you are all doing well.
In one moment of clarity, I realized why hobbits have so many meals. They get interrupted before they finish the first one, so they need to pep themselves up to continue being adorable and carefree and somehow send some heat to those lovely bare feet.
Side note, going outside to check the mail in flip-flops when a thin layer of ice covers the sidewalks is colder than one would think, but not as cold as sinking into a snowbank while trying to pitch something in the trash can. I put on thick socks and shoes when I repeated this endeavor at the recycling can a couple days later. This time, I slid down the snowbank surrounding the trash cans instead of falling through. It might be cold out there.
I also found cause to wonder about the difference between a butt dial and a booty call. People who have received them know that a clear difference exists though the former sounds like the latter if it occurs in an impromptu inappropriate moment. May none of us ever receive those —particularly from a relative. (Now that is the seed of a truly horrifying story…)
Women’s clothes don’t always have pockets, or useful pockets. And some ladies don’t enjoy carrying a purse because it leads to carrying a small yet heavy portion of our hoard around. Thus women have had to rely on nature’s pocket, which for some could house a sizable gun and for others barely offers a place to secrete a small wad of cash to be pulled out and offered in a sodden mass to horrified cashiers. So if a woman stores her phone in her emotion support garment, would an accidental call become a boobie call or a boob dial? And which would people prefer? Ornithologists would definitely vote boobie call (masked or blue-footed preferred).
Now that your mind is clearly in the wrong place, feel free to go plunge into that snow, which has probably turned into a solid layer of ice, and cool yourself off. I shall return to trying to finish anything between interruptions. All the mamas who know they shouldn’t homeschool but suddenly find themselves doing so know what I am talking about…
