The Weekender

Today I am home doing my own thing and thinking to myself about random stuff while generally being a gloating asshole about the fact it’s snowing out but I get to stay home all day and be warm. At least I was until I realized, with a growing horror, that I’m all out of Diet Pepsi and that if people don’t want the world to end in the next ten minutes, I’d better obtain some by any means necessary, or spend the day being a huge, cantankerous heap of bitchy, muttering and talking to myself.

So with a heavy heart I forced myself into some clothes that ARE fit to be seen in the outside world – because normally if I’m home, I’m content to laze around in holey (not holy!) leggings and a giant sweater and no make up and the only reason I don’t spend all day in my actual pyjamas is that the postman might come and bring me a present and me opening the door in my sleepwear might give HIM a present in the form of a coronary from the terror. No one should have to see that.

There are hearts on my pyjamas. That coupled with my crazy hair sends the postal workers over the edge of sanity. Let’s face facts - they usually don’t have far to go.

So anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, Diet Pepsi. I threw on some clothes and a scarf and I tromped across the street got a bottle of Diet Pepsi the size of Dog the Bounty Hunter’s preposterously colossal ego and triumphantly returned to my warm lair to drink it and regain my mellow.

However, just as I was sitting here thinking (mostly about the colour green but also some other things – I’d tell you about those too but if you saw a list of the random thoughts in my head at any one moment you’d never come back) I suddenly, out of the blue, hear a lady’s voice loudly say the words “tent poles”. Just a disembodied voice. And there was no one in the room but me.

And I thought, “…the fuck?”

And then I thought, “Did I say that?”

You might laugh, but last year, when I was in Fargo, I was having a nap one Saturday afternoon and I was scared awake by someone yelling the word “PIGEONS!” in a really distressed tone. My heart was beating like a snare drum. Until I realized that it was me. I’D yelled it! And I’d yelled it so loud I’d managed to wake myself up. Then I was anxious because, what the hell else do I yell in my sleep? Swear words? That I enjoy looking at men’s packages in ballet tights?

Anyway, I thought maybe the “tent poles” thing was me again, in some sort of waking trance, but it turned out there was a woman outside the window talking to some other unseen entity and she’d said it. Random bitch! So for the hell of it, I loudly yelled back, “MOCCASINS!” quickly followed by, “SWIFFER WET JET!”

She didn’t even smile. But then she probably laughs at “Two and A Half Men”.