Leaving that post up here makes me feel like I left my underwear1 out when guests came over. Not like if Great Grampy saw them2, more like if one of you all saw them3. Right, so, changing subjects quickly because, seriously, I have no excuse to be discussing my underwear on the internet. AND! Where on earth does this come from? I’m sure there are other much more appropriate analogies but noooo, my mind goes straight to my unmentionables. My head is screaming abort, abort, abort and my fingers…they march cheerily on. My apologies.
So, moving that post off the main page…that is a good goal and setting achievable goals is a sure fire way for me to feel better. It’s therapy. Talking about my underwear as therapy, interesting. Gah, moving on NOW!
What on earth is an appropriate topic after all that? Probably one I should avoid since both my mother and my father read this and they’re probably writing me out of the will and canceling our summer reservations at their camp this very moment.
Perhaps I should just set a goal of doing better tomorrow? I mean, really, that shouldn’t be too hard.
- Clean! [↩]
- Utterly mortifying! Sort of like the time Monkey showed Grampy a video on YouTube. It was a Pixar spoof called D.ixar. Fortunately, his eyesight is not what it once was so he could not identify the, uh, object hopping across the screen. [↩]
- Mildly embarrassing. Sort of like the time I wrote about my underwear on the internet. [↩]