Multifaceted Abnormal

First of all, that picture is not me. I do not have a camera. The person in the picture DOES have their pajama pants on. I could not, nor did I search for a person with their pajama pants off.

Digging a hole here. Please continue.

Last night I was laying in bed watching my 1 episode of Gilmore Girls that I allow myself each night. Lorelori and Rory are my multifaceted abnormal family, and we kiss each other good night every evening. Rory used the term multifaceted abnormal in this episode to describe Loreli, and, well, because of what had just happened, it got me thinking. I too, am living the multifaceted abnormal life. And this my friends and family, is a clear illustration of that fact:

I got out of bed to start writing this blog. That is wrong on so many levels, the first being I had no pajama pants on because earlier I got up to go get a drink, and when I came back to my bed and TV, I sat down on a tube of hydrocortosone cream that didn't quite have the lid snapped on. As a result I found myself wallowing around in a big ol' dollop of hydrocortsone cream.

Before this unfortunate event occurred, I was naively making sure that I was doing a very good job of sitting on the bed, fluffing pillows, squishing down into the mattress, and snuggling in. Unbeknownst to me, hydrocorozone creme had squirted all over the place. It made me laugh out loud. LOL as the kids are saying now days. I know it's not funny to you, but to me it was the equivalent of 50 clowns pouring out of a tiny car, which really isn't all that funny either, but it is all I can think of at the moment.

Anyway, the more I tried to clean it up, the more it was seeming to travel (a rear end is a very large vehicle) ...from the tube, to the side of the tube, to the sheets, to my pajamas, to the quilt, to my fingers, down my hand, and don't forget: in cases like this it is required to drop it on the carpet... This experience quickly turned into an episode of I Love Lucy. Abnormal, yes?

I think my rear end forced 1/2 of the hydrocortizone cream out of the tube, and that is not only a facet of abnormal, but a little humiliating as well. It was a brand new tube, (dag nab it to the power of 3). A brand new tube all over my jammiepants and sheets and hands and carpet and the rag I'm trying to sop it up with. This experience tends to make a girl feel like her rear end is the biggest, heaviest, most cumbersome item on the face of the earth. (OK, I concede, maybe not that abnormal.)

But, you know that moment that happens right before you actually do the stupid moment? I'm talking about the moment right when you are all innocent and in the dark, happily going along your merry way, thinking all is well, and nothing bad will ever happen to your tube of hydrocortizone cream.

And then boom. There you are with your brand new hydrocortosone tube all half empty with an indentation the size of your left bottom cheek on the lower half of the tube (and the contents of the tube are smearing around from here to eternity because you are one step behind on the direction the smear is choosing to go. Everything your buttock hits leaves a mark.)

Anyway. You know that "right before" moment? That "I'm in the dark" moment? There's something a little abnormal about that moment as well.

Because if you were the star of a movie, and the movie was about you sitting on an open tube of hydrocortizone cream, in the movie there would be suspenseful music playing to warn the people in the audience that harm was going to come to your new tube of hydrocortozone cream.

However you, the star of the movie, would not hear the music and would not pick up on the camera focusing on the innocent and extremely vulnerable hydrocortizone creme tube that happens to be slightly open.

And you, the star of this movie, wouldn't really be aware that the camera is focused on your pajama clad rear end, (wide angle lens needed) and you also wouldn't be aware that the focus of the camera is showing your rear end slowing descending, inch by precious inch on the helpless tube. You, as the star, would be TOTALLY CLUELESS as to the danger that awaits.

Don't you find this abnormal as well? Isn't it abnormal that we aren't aware of the danger, that we can't hear the music, that we don't pick up on the clues? I mean, we're in the room for gosh sakes. We're right there. Right next to it. How is it that we don't pay attention?

In my blog, all roads lead to Tim. (Is that yet another facet of abnormal?...told you I was multifaceted).

Tim didn't complain that much to me about any of the stupid things I did, but I know it drove him nuts when I didn't make sure lids were on tight. Last night I think ol Timmy boy had a very very large goodtime laugh, and he probably ran and turned the suspenseful warning music down as low as it would go, just to make absolutely sure that no one would ever EVER have a chance of hearing it. And then he propped his feet up on his little celestial ottoman that is decorated with basketballs and plays the theme from Sportscenter, and waited for the fun to begin.