I have talked to myself either silently or out loud my whole life and since being married to the “Professor/Husband” I find myself talking out loud to myself more than ever . . . or maybe he’s just around enough to catch me doing it, who knows?
My kids are used to me yammering on to myself and just leave me to it but not the Professor. It freaks him out a bit I believe.
Why, just yesterday, while watering my new plants, I was getting acquainted with them explaining that in Alabama it’s damn hot and as the days roll on, I’ll have to start watering them every day. I also let them know that my mom will be taking over for me in a few weeks and not to be afraid of her because it will only be for a week.
As I was chatting on with my new plants about the heat, the Professor had been spying on me through the kitchen window and decided to come out onto the back deck. Out of nowhere, I hear, “Who are you talking to?” I honestly replied, “Oh just chatting on with my new plants about what to expect in the coming months.” My husband looked at me, shook his head, and went back in.
The other day, while getting ready for work, I was jabbering on to myself in the mirror about what I was going to do with each OT kid coming to see me today. I went on and on and then eventually moved onto having a meeting with myself about my new Hippotherapy adventure at the clinic. If on cue, the Professor walks in and says, “Who are you talking to?” To which I replied, “Me.” Cue the shaking of the head and the exiting the area for fear, I assume, that the weird that is me would rub off on him.
Well, recently, I have found myself at home alone, which is a piece of heaven y’all, and it is not uncommon for me to sing opera, sing like Kermit the Frog in opera (I’m actually making fun of a country singer who I swear sounds like Kermit the frog), and this new country song I can’t get out of my head called Hometown by Kane Brown, I think it is.
Well . . .
When I set my weirdness meter on high, assuming I’m alone, it can get a little crazy so at the peak of my Kermit Opera performance, I hear someone walking around upstairs and nearly peed my pants when I looked up to see my stepson standing there looking at me.
“Um, oh, hello there, I didn’t think anyone was home?”
“That’s obvious,” he replied with a chuckle.
Good Lord, where did that kid come from? He’s supposed to be at school!
My talking to thyself has taken on an all time high and it may be because I have a lot going on in my noggin and it needs an escape route or perhaps, I just enjoy amusing my family and quite possibly freaking the Professor out.
Why just last week I was in my clinic talking to LuLu my 4-foot tall stuffed giraffe. She and I were talking about her baby, Baby YoYo, and how he might be doing as one of the OT kids borrowed him for the week. I do this in the clinic as an adventure for Baby YoYo and my only caveat is that they have to get their picture taken with him on one of their adventures. I hang it on the adventure board and the other kids love seeing where Baby YoYo has been. It’s really cool!
LuLu and I were in deep conversation when the Professor came out into the clinic and caught me yet again talking to, in his perception no one, but in fact, I was having a perfectly lovely conversation with LuLu when I hear, “Who are you talking to?” You would have loved to have seen his face when I answered, “Why LuLu of course, we are talking about Baby YoYo and his adventures.” That was it for the Professor, y’all, he blurts out, “Have you lost your friggin’ mind?” Well, I never. I looked at LuLu and politely said, “Excuse me, love, for I have to deal with the Professor at the moment, but not to worry, I’ll be back to finish our conversation.”
With that, the Professor went back into the house without another word . . .
I talk to plants, stuffed animals, the grass, the trees, Mr. Pickles (see a few blogs ago), my food, the refrigerator, the television, myself, no one, my dogs, my alarm clock, my computer, my car, and many many other things.
I have found that conversing with myself is very gratifying as I have all the right answers, I am a great conversationalist, and my subjects of conversation are highly entertaining. I’d call myself a complete package . . . insert a big fat laughing face here.
Well, talking to yourself has had its challenges here lately as the Professor has decided to mess with me. So, the other day, as he was washing his hands at the sink, I asked him if he wanted pork tenderloin or tilapia for dinner, to which he replied, “Are you talking to me or yourself because I just can’t tell anymore.” Oh, the drama . . .