Sometimes I have such vivid & lively conversations with myself in my head. And then I have a very hard time determining whether I was speaking to myself out loud or if I was only thinking it. In public restrooms this has the possibility of being a very embarrassing situation.
The day: last Thursday, February 24
The time: 3:23 p.m.
The situation: I was leaving for ballet in 22 minutes and just realized that I forgot my dance clothes & shoes
The response: Call Bryce. "Sweetie, could you please run over my stuff right away? The JCrew bag should be on the bed. Not there? Maybe on the floor of my closet? Or perhaps the kitchen table? Hmm. Still not there? Okay, yes, I'll go check the car."
The process: Find my jacket. Go down 6 floors on the elevator. Walk out to the car. And, imagine that, the bag is sitting innocently on my front seat.
The problem: I had absolutely no memory of taking my bag out to the car. Absolutely none.
The diagnosis: Sometimes I am most definitely an airhead.
Last week I was trying to do some sewing with fabric flowers. (This girl who always hurts herself should know by now to be very careful with needles.) In the process of trying to stick a needle through a glob of dried hot-glue, the needle slipped and I stabbed myself underneath the fingernail on my thumb . . . the needle just slid up inside. It bled & hurt really bad (that's an understatement). You can see a blood clot underneath my fingernail and my thumb still is throbbing & tender almost 5 days later. Bryce looked at me very consolingly from the other side of the couch, kindly found a tissue for the blood, and said, "Why weren't you using your thimble?" And I said, "I was! It was on my other hand to catch the needle coming out the other side!"