Of All the Things I've Lost, I Miss My Mind the Most

I've mentioned before that "Old Timers" runs in my family.     My own grandma didn't recognize me at my baby shower and called me a bitch.  Oh yes.  We're THAT family.  :)  

Her father, who lived with them when I was young, used to believe that the Germans would bust into the house at any time and carry him away (no, he was not Jewish),  and so he hid all his money in a table-top cathedral radio. Sometimes, he would get agitated, and chase us around the room, screaming cuss words and "shooting" at us.  My favorite thing was when he peed out the window of his second story bedroom.   Yep.   Great-grandpa was a blast to hang out with.


There have been several incidents throughout my life that cause me to fear that someday, this may be my future.

Once after grocery shopping a few blocks from my house, I got in the Jeep and headed home.  Somehow, before I arrived, I managed to turn on the street before mine.   Instead of being rational and turning on the right street when the houses I saw weren't the ones I looked at every day, I freaked out.    *They* moved my house and ALL the other houses.   *They* were fast, because they did it in only 15 minutes. *They* had taken my family and I would never know where they had gone to.  These were literally my thoughts.   Not, "Hey, dumbass, you turned on the street before yours. Take a right, and you'll be at home."   Oh, no.   I'm freaking out because some unknown, nebulous THEY took my house.   

I would love to say this has only happened once. 

It hasn't.

*Sigh*  

Last night, something even more disturbing happened.   The dog wanted out at three this morning to pee or eat grass or chase cats or just piss me off or  do whatever it is she wants to do fifty frazillion times a night. I have a routine when she wakes me up.  First,  I keep the lights off so I'll go back to sleep.   I go and  do my own business in the dark of the bathroom and then curl up on the couch to doze until she barks for me to let her back in.    

This morning, however, as I lay snuggled up snoozing away on the couch, a strange thing happened.   

The dog barked her warning bark, my eyes shot open, and I was confronted with brown.  Somehow, in my sleep, I had rolled over and was facing the back of the couch.    Okay, no big deal.   Roll over and get up and let the dog in before her infernal barking wakes up the whole dang neighborhood.

Oh, if only it were that easy.

I lay there on the couch for a good 3 minutes, or 100,000 barks, trying to remember HOW TO ROLL OVER. 

I kid you not.  

My future is bleak, you guys.  Someday, you will walk by me at the store, greet me, and I'll think I am fighting in WWI and chase you all around Wal-Mart screaming cuss words a four year old should never hear.

At least Big Daddy has already bought me an old radio to hide my money in for when the Germans come.