Weirdly Jamie

It’s been a weird 24 hours.  Perhaps that’s poorly phrased.  It’s not that anything really strange has happened TO me during that time, more that I’ve been experiencing really strange things.

 

Last night, in honor of National Creamsicle Day, I made myself a cocktail of Orange Fanta Zero (side note: “Zero” sodas make me so much happier than “Diet” ones) and whipped cream vodka.  I took the drink upstairs, where I immersed myself in the novel I’m thisclose to finishing.  At one point, I spilled the drink up near the head of the bed and a few thoughts popped into my head at once:

1.       This is why I can’t have nice things!

2.       This is why I don’t bring anything but water upstairs!

3.       Good thing the ugly brown sheets are on the bed!

I mopped up the excess liquid with a hand towel and went back to my reading.  The spot was dry by the time I went to sleep, so I plopped my pillow down there and didn’t think anything else about it.

 

I woke up with a start around 2:00 this morning and thought someone was toasting marshmallows downstairs.  My mind went through cookies with marshmallows, s’mores waffles, and campfire-toasted marshmallows first.  Realizing this was illogical, my next thought was that there was a fire downstairs and what I smelled wasn’t burning sugar but burning house.  It smelled so good though, I was starting to drift back to sleep and I remembered thinking something along the lines of, “I’m going to feel really stupid if I have to be rescued by the firemen and admit that I smelled fire and fell back to sleep.”  Finally my brain cleared just enough to realize what I smelled: the remnants of the whipped cream vodka in the sheets.

I smiled at my own stupidity, rolled over and fell back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that there was no baking prowler and/or arsonist downstairs.

 

Fast-forward 8 hours to work this morning.  My office mate called in, and the quiet at my desk was starting to get to me, so I was listening to music on my phone with one earbud in my left ear.  I went to the break room to talk to the working foreman, and then went straight to the bathroom with the music still playing into my head.

 

I was sitting on the potty, and decided to drum along on my bare thighs.  I wasn’t keeping time – it was pretty much a little drum solo: badabadabadabadabada.  And then I heard the worst sound ever: the sound of someone a few stalls over pulling the toilet paper roll.

 

I wasn’t alone.

 

And someone probably thought I was in there spanking myself.

 

And that person was probably wondering who the bad bad girl was.

 

I clapped my hand over my mouth and had to resist the temptation to yell out in my own defense.  I didn’t though, because a meeting had just let out and if there was some anonymous stranger in there I figured she’d just have a funny story to take back to her own office.

 

As I was washing my hands, the other stall opened and my ex-office mate walked out.  I looked at her and started to laugh as I explained that I was just drumming along on my legs to the music that was playing in my head.  I even pointed to the earbud and may have demonstrated the perfectly G-rated thigh slap technique.  She laughed, said she was wondering what the heck was going on, and we both left.  I had tears rolling down my face by the time I got back to my desk.

 

I guess this story could have a few different logical conclusions.

 

Morals of the Story

 

1.       Don’t drink in bed (which, seriously, I NEVER DO. But the book was upstairs and I had just made the drink and there was nothing on TV I wanted to watch)

2.       Don’t sleep in the wet spot (*waves hello to perverted Google searchers*)

3.       Don’t thigh drum in a public bathroom

4.       Take the time to write down the things that made you laugh today.  I’ve been at this blog thing to know that it’s the random day-to-day crap you forget about that makes you laugh when you read through your archives (*waves hello to Jamie of the Future*)