So I've realized something- it's super easy to buy a house.

This leads me to realize a couple other things: it's a sign of douchbaggery to post pictures of your house being built all over facebook. I am no longer impressed. Nope. Not.At.All. Stop making me look at your boring "journey" of concrete being poured. Wooden posts do not inspire me. This is very similar to people posting pictures of their ultrasound; although that is slightly more impressive as you are actually growing something. Like a pumpkin.

In fact, I would rather see your pictures of the pumpkin garden in your backyard than a squiggly bean and an empty lot.

But, back to the point at hand: house buying. It seems Mom and I are doing it. If we can do it, anyone can. Do you hear that Amanda from high school whose last name I'm editing because I care? Do you hear that?? I'm not impressed that you and "Steve" are buying a house! Stop telling me! I'm going to hide you from my newsfeed if you post one more thing about it!

It seems I have a lot of rants about this in me.

Our possible house has shag carpet, which is inherently amazing. It also has wood paneling which is not. It had an old lady who does not come with the house but who is, most certainly, responsible for said carpet. And plastic fruit decorations. This flashback to the mod 1970s house can be mine (ours) for a mere $5,000ish.

This down payment can be very misleading and I now see how the housing market crashed. $5,000 doesn't seem like much so you bump it up to a bit more and then the monthly payments are overwhelming.

I'm now a finance genius who still is not impressed by your boring track home or your even more boring Antique Plate holder you found at Hobby Lobby. Although again I would like to see your blooming pumpkin patch.

A family friend once told me that having disjointed conversations is a sign of a highly developed mind. I've held on to this statement, took it as a compliment as it was spoken in direct relation to a conversation we were having. She told me this when I was around 12. I've not forgotten and like to tell people this tidbit when they inevitably comment on my conversation schizophrenia.

This same lady told me I walked like a duck in heels when I was in the 6th grade. She followed up by saying within a year of practice I would stop. I've rarely been more aware of how I walk than the week following.

This lady, blunt as she may be, confirmed that I'm a genius and forced me to not walk like a duck. I think she should be considered for sainthood.

I have a few irrational fears. I have no rational ones. Rational fears are really no longer rational once they go into the "fear" category and who is to say what is a normal fear? Spiders? Bees? Small sticky children?

But I feel my fears take a certain amount of understanding. See, I'm afraid of cotton balls.

Afraid might be the wrong word, but my English has yet to expand to settle upon the right word. Regardless, I loathe cotton balls. It started innocently enough: that damn fibers separating sound makes me shudder like nails on a chalkboard. I can't stand the feel of cotton and this tactile aversion makes its way to fleece and other thick fabric. But when I start to think about cotton and it's disgusting fiber-like ways I begin to get very uncomfortable. I don't want to be in the same room as those stupid balls. My eyes may even water over as I talk about them. It's my disgust showing itself in my eyes.

I'm also freaked out by trains and railroad tracks. I'm not afraid of being on a train- I've been on many in fact with no issue. However, I do not want to be hit by a train. Nope. I like to think it's a healthy respect for a large iron death machine. So I see no reason to dally around/on/near the railroad tracks as they are obviously the place to hang out if you want to get crushed by a train. And dear lord those arm thingy's are warning signs that we should NEVER second guess. If he candycane striped arms say not to cross the tracks- I will NOT cross the tracks.

And my last fear would be serial killers. This may be more normal but it's not the death and dying part that frightens me. It's the abduction/torture/knifing that would undoubtedly ensue. And all the ones I read about hide their victims and save a small memory from each. I don't want to be chopped up predying. I don't want to be stolen while I sleep. I'm also afraid that I will have a sinus infection that will make my nose stop-up so that when they gag me I won't be able to breath.

My fears/extreme discomforts are real to me and make my heart beat faster. So please never tie me up on railroad tracks, surrounded by cotton balls with a chainsaw. That's just asking for me to have a heart attack. My mom will sue.

I survived for now

Now I just get to wait for the inevitable skin cancer to kick in. I am so badly burned that I have spent all day today in only some undies and an occasional silk robe. The silk robe hurts. I have a couple of sections on my back that are blistered. I howl in pain (yes, howl) when I lay down or sit up. The litter box needs cleaning but I'm hardly fit to do much else than sit here and complain and apply more aloe vera.

But I must say that I have an amazing neighbor who did not even blink an eye when I knocked on her door at 4 in my silk robe begging her to put aloe on my back. She's in nursing school and has worked the psych wards so I figured she had seen worse.

But I survived camping. Went tubing (being pulled by a boat in a tube, not floating aimlessly in a tube), zapped bugs and ate some bratwursts.

Oh, and just to let others know, it is illegal to drink alcohol in a Texas State Park. However, you can drink it in your tent.

In less than 24 hours I will head out to live outside with intense heat, insects, dirt and bears. I will have to bring water to drink and will be expected to eat a hot dog and wear a bathing suit. There will be no fans or electricity and I will sleep inches away from thousands of insect and grains of dirt and twigs.

I have to go camping. For 2 nights.

I didn't even own a pair of shorts before yesterday. Now I have to wear some out in public and trounce around and hike and swim in them.

Jason, you better have a great birthday.

Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrom

I found a group on Facebook for us night-owls and I must say that I'm enjoying the humor of calling you morning people "Daywalkers." Ha. But they have put together a list of funny "you might have a sleep disorder if" list. I'm posting all the relevent ones to myself. There were many about coffee that had to be omitted for obvious reasons (like it's terrible taste in my mouth).

So, in regards to a previously posted list...

You know you have a sleep disorder when:

1. As a child, you slept in even on Christmas

2. You have to shower the night before or it just doesn’t get done

3. You require divine intervention (i.e., lightbox) to be "awake" before 10.

4. On any given day, at any time of the day, you could lie down and be asleep in minutes. Except for after 10 p.m.

5. You regularly skip a morning ritual even if it only gives you 5 extra minutes of sleep.

6. You've ever woken up in a panic on a Saturday morning thinking that you're late for work/class...again.

7. You've ever worn sun glasses while working on your computer in the early evening.

8. You set your alarm clock for 12 noon . . . and still have to hit the snooze button several times before actually getting out of bed.

9. You end up going for midnight runs/walks because you have too much energy to stay indoors.

10. You want to assault people who tell you to "just go to bed earlier."

11. You never schedule a.m. appointment times at the Dr., dentist, hairdresser, etc. even if the next available afternoon appointment is months away.

12. You've ever arranged to spend the night with friends or co-workers for the sole purpose of getting somewhere important the next morning.

And now some of my own:
13. You had to have your mother call you while you were in college to wake you up every morning.

14. You've made deals with roomates to buy them things if they help wake you up.



Ahh, good ole sleep disorders! :)

It would figure that even thought mosquitoes and fleas and other such insect leave me completely alone, I would go step my foot into a fire ant pile in an effort to do lunges. Here's to my dismal hope they find me as undesirable as the other insects do.

P.S. I still am at a general loss as to why these insect leave me alone 99% of the time. I think it's my amazing blood. Too good for them. It's like drinking $100 champagne when you just want the cheap stuff at the gas station.