Between major sleep deprivation, personal stress, and an above average workload falling horribly on a PA Day week, my brain’s a little fried right now. Or a lot fried. This is the actual train of thought I had to pull myself out of this morning:
Realization: I have the keys. The keys are in my hand.
The keys are always in my hand.
Literally. The keys to my house/car are usually in my actual hands when I am searching for them. Like looped around my thumb, just out of sight, while I look on every flat surface in the house. Shouldn’t they jingle or something? Why does it always take me so long to realize that I’m holding my stupid keys?
Wait. Is this a metaphor? Are the KEYS in MY HAND? Like the key to life, or some shit?
Like, I’m in control. I’m the master of my own destiny. I have the key. I just have to find it, and everything will be fine. I just need to look at my hands.
(The back of my brain starts pulling up lyrics from The Safety Dance; I force it to stop.)
Right. They keys. I have them. I have the key to life.
WTF am I even thinking right now? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I need coffee.
Is this brilliant? Should I tweet this? What is my Twitter password? It’s probably saved in my phone. This isn’t brilliant. I’ll probably tweet it anyway. Or blog about it. Gotta work out these thoughts somewhere.
The keys are in my hand. Hmmm. I’m an idiot.