The things that pop into my head while I do mundane normal people tasks...well...like driving, get put onto a scale of country wide proportions! This weekend I drove down to the Philly area to crash a party (as per the usual), oh and see a concert with my lovely cousin pappy. Being the Irish skinned variety of white girl, the arm out the window (it's the left arm, for you crazy Europeans) started to crisp up. Normal thought: "ooo that's gonna be a little burnt." Cross the country pondering "crap, in a month my left arm is going to be WAY more tan than my right arm!" (As if my "tan lines" aren't freakish enough over the summers...)
No, no, the thought did not occur to me to put my arm back in the window at all. Sorry, that would be against the code of driving Hobbes...
You know what popped into my head next? That probably means I'm going to have the country's largest knot of hair by the time I'm midway through 'Murcia.
Better buy a brush...
That's right, I don't own a brush, I just borrow my nieces brush when I get desperate. Are you surprised?
Things that pop into family and friend noggins are even more creative than mine:
I wonder how many speeding tickets you will get... Thanks "The Schruf", could have said something when I put the budget together.
This lead me to the thought that I should probably NOT drive through Kansas. There may or may not be an unpaid largish ticket still waiting for me there. Note to self: no Kansas.
And then there's Uncle Bob the ex-marine (I know from NCIS there is no such thing, but I'll say it anyway): he thinks I'm definitely in trouble because of my age and rocking bod (I'm paraphrasing). According to him I'm going to be a victim of a heinous campsite murder. I put his mind at ease however, I let him in on my pretty epic machete skills. At the very least potential wackos will see me coming with a machete and deeply question who is the real wacko.
My Aunt with the best name ever gave me a really good thought I never would have caught onto in any of my own ponderings: (paraphrasing again) what about Bert? What if he sticks his penis where it doesn't belong again and breaks it a THIRD, yes THIRD time! How am I supposed to drive across the nation when I have a rapist dog?! Will he survive the farm life without careful guidance from me?! We can only hope, because if he rips that thing a third time, I'm certain it will need to be amputated...
Mostly though, people are concerned I'm not coming back. Actually most people truly and honestly believe I'm not coming back. I find this amusing and kind of thrilling. Maybe I won't!
(Gina I'll totally be there for your wedding, I'll even crash the wedding party to keep up my "perfect bridesmaid" record)