Monkey Mind Time, even though it's night. I guess my mind has taken a liking to the monkey. Figures.
As a young girl I never really fantasized about getting married or what my wedding dress would look like or where I would go on my honeymoon. Oh sure, there were moments when I lusted (to put it very mildly) after Ryan Gosling in 9th grade, but other than that I was typically not boy crazy or at all into anything frilly and romantic. I fantasized about other things, such as becoming Nancy Drew, going ghost hunting, traveling back in time so I could be a hippie at Woodstock. Seriously. And now, after all of these loopy years, I have begun to wonder about marriage. Or rather, about a long-term relationship with another person. I wonder if I want it. I wonder if it would be nice -- a relief -- to have a partner. I wonder what it would be like to be taken care of occasionally, to have someone to take care of, to have a plus one, to have a traveling companion. But I am such a loner. A certified loner. A proud and certified loner. Is it okay to be okay with being a loner? Like, I don't even feel that guilty about being such a solitary soul and I feel guilty about everything. Who knows. I guess I am not actively seeking out a relationship. I don't go out, I cancel plans, I am definitely not on any dating sites. Should I try? Just for curiosity's sake? Should I get all Nancy Drew on this? Find some clues. Solve a puzzle. Marry a bozo.
Other, briefer monkey mind musings:
I am began reading The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter today in a hospital park. So far so good.
Speaking of hospitals, I was convinced I needed to go to one last night. Total meltdown. Long, interesting story short, I most likely have a vitamin deficiency. Well, I hope so. I hope it's "just" that. I can pop a few vitamins and drink a few glasses of milk (well, no I can't). I can probably do those things, no sweat. But when things get more complicated, I crumble. Come on -- aren't I supposed to be a tea bag? Aren't I supposed to get stronger when put in hot water? Man alive, a hot bath sounds so inviting right now. Just a hot bath with a few glasses of milk (psych! wine!) and Enya playing in the background... Like, Enya is actually IN my bathroom playing music for me. And not her music, but she is playing DJ and spinning some records or whatever it's called. Spinning some records? Just make sure they don't spin off into the tub, Enya. I'm trying to relax.
I am obsessed with this cumin-spiced bread I make. It's outrageously easy and not even that delicious and I go through a loaf, like, every other day. What is so appealing to me about this bread? Could it be that I am cumin deficient? Mystery solved. Nancy Drew has done it again. Ms. Drew, thirty, flirty, and thriving. Aside from the multiple deficiencies.
Monkey Mind Meg wants to go talk to her Monkey Mother right now. Thanks for reading the insufferable things I write. You are true blue with a heart of gold. Gold and blue, that is you. See ya in my dreams, peach pies.