The post about nothing really

I hate the term " I'm busy" and all the variations of it. We glorify the concept of being chronically busy, as though being busy is synonymous with being happy or successful. Sometimes, busy is just a placeholder word. Sometimes, busy is just busy. I really feel much better admitting that.

In a stroke of almost pure genius-diluted genius?-I watched Sabrina. Both versions. Because I find Humphrey Bogart Linus Larabee to be just a teensy bit more endearing than Harrison Ford Linus Larabee. Something about his droopy eyes makes me think of a basset hound. And basset hounds are verrrry endearing I assure you.Plus that mumbly deep voice? Yes please! But the Harrison Ford version features some really choice Godfather quotes, so it's a bit of a toss up on which I like better. It just so happens, that I am very good personally at going out with David Larabees, and they've all been perfectly charming of course. But maybe I should shoot for a Linus Larabee? Or maybe I should not take so much stock into silly chick flicks.

I've spent the last few days pouring over a 200 page document for my research paper. 200 pages really isn't that bad when you think about it, like how many pages did I sink into that teenage wizard book series? But here's the clincher. It's a pdf of a scanned document- to be read, blurry tiny print garbage. I have absolutely needed my glasses for every second, which isn't at all the usual, since my glasses usually serve as more of an optional accessory rather than a necessity. Hooray for mostly ok eye sight! Anyway, here's what I learned; apparently when you are the author of a 200 page literary research paper, you can start spouting absolute nonsense in the middle, probably because you are assuming that nobody is going to read your whole paper. So, yeah BYU professor guy from the 60s, I read your whole rant on Richard Burton in the middle of your paper, and I am not at all amused. -Ok maybe a little bit amused-. But yeah, 200 pages later and only about 10, if I'm generous, are going to prove useful for my research. Isn't education the best? It is, I promise minus my grumping it is.

For Valentime's--and I absolute insist on that incorrect spelling. For sentimental reasons-- I got a fantastic turquoise cuff. I'm all sorts of thrilled about it ya know. Eeeexcept for one minor thing. For about 2 ish? days I was deeply convinced it was making my arm go completely numb. Which probably merits an explanation, you know defend my sanity and whatnot. It all began by me making the offhand comment to my father that my wrists hurt and there's this numb-y/shooting pain going on sporadically-which I've decided is carpal tunnel syndrome although I have absolutely no solid proof for that, but that's a hypochondria story for another day- and he said "Well is it your new bracelet? You know people can have weird reactions to copper"
And then I just knew. It was the bracelet. Killing me slowly. Probably giving me cancer of all body parts. My entire arm felt like it was numb. Which led to all sorts of good panicky feelings. So I switched it to the other arm. And blammo! Numbness.
In a state of total rational thinking, I texted my father and informed him that I was most likely on my way to needing amputation and that if I were so lucky as to get prosthetic arms, I'd really like bigger hands so I could give really manly handshakes. Manly handshakes are a big deal for some reason in the Heap household. And famously I have the reputation of having baby hands and as a result, really wimpy handshakes. It's a burden I have to bear in this life.
He said that he would definitely keep that request in mind if it came down to amputation. That dad of mine is a real keeper, I would eat sketchy Maverick hot dogs with him any day just cause I like him. But not too often, because I find hot dogs in general not trustworthy.
But to shorten the whole tale, I have finally come to the conclusion that the power of suggestion is suuuper real and also that I am the queen of paranoia. So, let's laugh about that and pretend like that's not kind of concerning, ok? Ok.

I'm also, as luck would have it, feeling the beginnings of a cold coming on. You know what I'm talking about, when you just know you're about to get sick, but you're not quite sick yet? Fortunately it seems to be a very generous and thoughtful kind of cold. I know this, because it hasn't sneaked up on me and knocked me flat on my back in 2.5 seconds like your average cold does. Rather it has ambled in slowly, waiting to be properly acknowledged and invited in, only making me vaguely congested at night. Which gives me a rather lovely throaty deep Lauren Bacall voice when I talk. See? That's what I call generosity!

But, uhhh yeah. Life is good. And also, congrats/sorry if you waded through this entire pointless tirade.