It's been sweltering hot the last few days. I A) have no air conditioning; B) am on the sixth and top floor of my building; and C) am skirting the edge of menopause.
At home, if I so much as wiggle a pinky toe, I'm immediately soaked with sweat.
Mostly, I've been staring at my living room wall, trying not to move.
The result?
I've had epiphanies:
I must stop initiating conversations that I'm not well-informed enough to sustain.
I should accept that things -- cherished sweatshirts, socks, sex toys -- eventually wear out.
I believe that I'm a born surfer. (To test this, I'll take my ironing board into the shower and see how long I stay on.)
If I wanted to check myself out at the grocery store, I'd have become a cashier.
My cat is a weirdo; she thinks the same of me.
I've had urges to confess:
As a therapist, I care deeply about my patients. Still, there are times I can't help being amused.
After complimenting one client's ivory necklace, she told me, "It's from Thailand, but I don't know which elephant."
One young woman said she didn't find masturbation "a good use of her time."
Many years ago (God, please forgive me) another client tried to commit suicide by smothering himself with a pillow. Twice, he attempted this. (I'm betting he's still alive.)
I've pondered random facts to keep myself entertained:
My second grade teacher's name was Miss Klitz. It was years before I understood how cruel a hand she'd been dealt.
Days before my wedding (I've been divorced many years) I dreamed the reception was in the basement of White Castle.
Recently, I left my boyfriend and cat in my living room to take a shower. Before turning the water on I heard, "If you've got something to say, just say it."
I told my dentist my favorite offensive joke. He giggled like a schoolgirl.
I took a sample Mensa quiz. Turns out I'm stupid. I wear the label with pride.
Now...
Excuse me while I go shop for an igloo on eBay.
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