Yesterday I wrote about my very favorite inventions and products. Today I am going to write another letter.
A Letter to My Worst Habit
Dear Over-Active Mind,
How are you? I am fine. What did you do today? I spent my entire drive to work with my head in the clouds. But you already knew that.
I was hoping we could have a rational discussion about your unruly mannerisms.
I do not appreciate you zoning out when I should be concentrating. I’ve got kids in the car, man. It’s not safe to drop off into fantasy-land while hurtling down the interstate at 60 miles per hour in a recalled Jeep, sandwiched between two semi trucks. Do you not understand that I need to use you to keep us safe in the car? This reminds me of the time you told me we were hungry while I was in transitional labor. How can you get so off track so quickly? How is it that I have zero recollection of the time between 7:20 and 8 AM every day. This is a decidedly important time of the day, no?
I do not appreciate the way you make me assess every little detail of my environment. It is not important to me what other people are buying at the grocery store. It is not important to me that the piece of paper on my desk was moved a quarter inch by someone. It is not always important to read body language. I do not need to look into the garbage can to figure out what took place while I was away from the house. I do not need to notice small, neglected children everywhere I go. Do I?
I do not appreciate the constant narrative we must have with one another all day, every day. I know it’s a “mom thing,” but seriously, can’t I just stand in the bathroom and comb my hair? Do I have to think about breakfast, lunch, supper, missing socks, grocery lists, hair product effectiveness, cleanliness of bathroom, what’s that smell?, haircuts, I hate my body, what’s wrong with my skin here?, black shoes or brown shoes today?, please let the kids be awake, and gosh, I’d rather be reading a book…all at the same time? What’s so hard about standing there, combing my hair and admiring the results?
I do not appreciate the fantasy-land you seem to think we live in. The dreams we have are bad enough, but must they extend to the daytime, too? I can’t imagine any circumstance under which all the fantasies we have are healthy. It’s just pie in the sky, and honestly, strikes me as a bit of wasteful of brain power.
I am divided on how I feel about you being such a constant conversationalist. It is completely unnecessary to orchestrate a detailed excuse when you know all I’m going to say when I get to work is, “I got stuck in traffic.” On the other hand, we do some of my best writing together. You are a master of eloquence, except that it rarely transfers to paper quite like it went through our head. It’s like my fingers are out to get us.
That said, I am so thankful for all of our brainstorming sessions. Where else could I think up cool ideas like storing pony tail elastics ON the hairbrush handle? Or hatch a plan to blog for 30 days straight?
I am also thankful that I don’t say everything that you think. Some of that stuff is really ridiculous. And unnecessary. My worst nightmare would be the evolutionary enhancement where every thought runs on a ticker tape on my forehead for all to see. Now don’t go brainstorming a way to make that a reality. What’s that you say? Yeah, that would be cool. Now stop thinking about it.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you belong to me. For better, for worse, we’re in this world together. You race around, you drive me crazy, you are as stupid as you are smart, but you and me make a great team, working to make the world a better place, one dangerous drive to work at a time.
PS – I found this little meme montage and thought it fit you perfectly.
Tomorrow’s topic: Would You Rather?