I’ve mentioned once or twice that I have this habit of talking to myself.
I’m not really picky when and where I do this. If I have something to say to myself, I say it.
After being at home sick for almost a week, I was especially chatty yesterday when I was out of the house for the first time in days.
I caught myself having this particularly riveting conversation, and although I should be ashamed and embarrassed, it made me realize two things: 1. there is such a thing as cabin fever and 2. I may be a bit of a loser:
“I can’t believe I’m finally out of the house.
I hadn’t left the house in over five days.
I wonder if that makes me, like, a hermit?…a dirty hermit. I went five days without showering. I probably would have gone longer if I hadn’t crapped my pants…
…buddy, you planning on stepping on the gas pedal because this light isn’t getting any greener…what is his problem? Maybe he’s unconscious?
Buddy, go! Don’t make me honk my horn!
What the fuck is he doing in there?
I can’t even see his head. Is there even somebody in that car?…oh, there he goes.
Good for you buddy, you foot does reach the gas pedal!…
…I’m just gonna pass this guy…Hi Mister!…they hate it when I wave at them as I’m passing…
…I know I shouldn’t keep looking at myself in the rearview mirror, but I can’t believe how pretty I look today.
It’s only because I’ve been schlepping around looking like death for a week.
Although my hair is really nice right now.
Even that guy over there is looking at me.
Buddy, eyes on the road!
You wouldn’t be looking at me all Ricco Suavé if you knew I pooped my pants yesterday…
So what do I have left to get before Christmas?…Pretty much everything…
…Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! That’s the guy from the green light again. Why would you speed up to pass me if you’re just going to slow right down in front of me? Is that a crack pipe you’re smoking? Is that your problem?…doubt it though, what are you, like 200 years old? You can’t even see above the steering wheel.
Buddy, drive it like you own it! That’s it…that’s it….a little faster so those joggers on the side of the road aren’t running faster than we’re rolling…
GAH! Are you fucken kidding me?
Ok, I’m passing you again Mister, this time I’m not going to wave. Look at me Mister. I’m not waving, I’m not waving…”
“Mom!” Wyatt says from next to me. “I hate to disturb your conversation with decrepid elderly man, but can you not talk to yourself when we pick up my friend. And can you not mention crapping yourself. Thanks.”
…ppfffttt…like those are bad things…