A Fine Time to Say Absolutely Nothing With a Plethora of Words!

October 30, 2010

“Holy pumpkin seeds, Batman! October has nearly expired without a doodle from the nutcase!”

“Yes, Robin,” Batman replied, “she seems to be having a slight problem with her doodleometer these days. The numbers are spinning so quickly she can’t see straight, causing her to lose track of the passing weeks. But never fear, my fine featherless sidekick! Our neurotically obsessive cohort would never allow a little dizziness to keep her from making her personally etched-in-stone deadlines. She will prevail over the out-of-control doodleometer, or my name isn’t Bartman!”

“Your name isn’t Bartman, Batman,” Robin noted astutely. “It’s Batman!”

“So it is, Robart. And the nutcase writing this knows it! She must be up to something sinister! Look! Here in this paragraph! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s another weird allusion to a comic book superhero who could not beat us with a sticky stick! No, wait. It’s just the doodler coming in for a landing. Watch out!”

Splutter, sputter, KeRsPrOiNg! SPLAT!!!

Hello, dear readers! I do so enjoy making an entrance, especially when I have nothing profound to say.”But you never have anything profound to say,” you may be thinking. Well, just keep those thoughts to yourself. Profundity could leap out at us at any moment, and then wouldn’t you feel silly for thinking what you just thought?

As you may or may not surmise, depending on the depth of your surmising skills, your favorite monthly blogger, (unless, of course, you have another more favorite, in which case you might as well just move on to that one) has entered into the zone from which many never return–the zone of loose brain screws. This is not a zone I have entered lightly (no, I weigh quite a bit more than I should right now) nor willingly (I really think I was abducted by aliens who loosened my screws to study the inner workings of my brain, but were so frightened by what they saw, they zipped away before tightening them up again.)

The previous paragraph was a metaphor for my current state of ditziness, just in case anyone should think that I’m truly claiming alien abduction as my excuse for the lack of sense I’m making in all areas of my life currently. No, for this gloriously beautiful month of October, I hereby declare myself certifiably time-lagged by the postponement of the change back to standard time from sometime this month to the first weekend in November. By this time of year, I really need my lost hour of spring back! I cannot cope for an extra week or whatever it is without that rejuvenating catch-up hour.

Next month, I’ll have to come up with another highly logical excuse, because I have a feeling, deep, deep, deep down in my soul that the ditz may be here to stay. Besides being unable to remember where I’m supposed to be when, as discussed in last month’s entry, I keep losing essential items like keys, books, instructions, recipes, underwear and occasionally my husband (he’s sneaky and quiet, so I really think he’s responsible for his own disappearances, but I can’t be sure.) I’m also losing a plethora of words lately (although sometimes words like “plethora” just pop out quite happily.) Most of the time, however, I have to break out the thesaurus to come up with the term I want to use that means plethora, but I can’t think of at the time, such as “a lot.” This makes me tired (otherwise known as exhausted.)

And I seem unable to show up anywhere on time anymore. I haven’t been able to blame babies for many years now, and the lallygagging teenager excuse is becoming less and less reliable, especially when the teenager doesn’t come with me. It may be that I simply cannot judge the passing of time accurately anymore. When I see it is 9:15 and I need to be somewhere that is 20 minutes away by 9:30, I think to myself, “I have 15 more minutes to sit here and try to get up,” when in reality I only have 7 and a half minutes to urge the lazy buns off the chair. And this only gets worse the longer I have to wait for my lost hour to reappear.

When I sat down to write this doodle I considered all the many possibilities from this month: the beauty of autumn, breaking a tooth on popcorn, car troubles involving a horrid squealing noise after turning off the engine, visiting colleges over fall break, fund-raising for the senior science trip, trying to come up with community service projects for two girls in need of hours for school, stress eating and hissy fits, watching my hair develop a gray streak like Emmylou Harris used to have–all worthy vehicles for deep spiritual insights and riveting drama.

Instead, I simply wrote an excess (plethora) of words about nothing much at all. I hear all those loose screws rattling around in my head and I wonder what Batman and Robin would do in such a dire situation.

“Robin, try to grab the bat-screwdriver from my bat-tool belt with your toes! I can’t reach it tied up in knots like this!”

“But Batman, how do I get my shoes off when my hands are tied, too?”

“Pray for a change in the wind to send Mary Poppins our way, Robin. She can remove your shoes!”

“Holy Umbrellamobile, Batman! That’s wild and crazy idea! But wouldn’t it be better to just pray for God to take care of all those loose screws?”

“Don’t be smart with me, Robin. That’s not batty enough!”