Eight is way more than enough, thank you!

So this past weekend, I had eight, count 'em, 8 freakin' people in my house! I'm still not sure what drugs I was on when I decided this was a good idea. Actually, I don't know that I ever thought it was a "good" idea but it didn't occur to me for some strangely bizarre reason that it might overwhelm me.

Now, if you knew anything about me, right about now, you'd be smacking me upside the head. See, I don't do large groups of people. And to me? Eight is a large group. When I'm in a group of more than 3 or 4 people, I tend to go into overload mode. I get this huge mental block and I'm completely incapable of processing what's going on around me. I just kinda sit there while information passes around me like flies in the air and it's a small miracle that I'm not drooling the entire time.

If I spend too much time in a large group, I started to get agitated and antsy, I totally go into fight-or-flight, and as it's really inappropriate to punch family members or neighbors when you, or they, are not drunk, I usually fly. Not that I would punch family members, mind you. Well.... there's one I'd like to punch... but I'm kinda getting off the topic.

So. You're asking, what the hell was I thinking having 8 people in my house? And I'll tell you what I was thinking. My dad, who is 80, lives in Delaware, and hasn't come out this way in ages, was coming out for a visit. He didn't know exactly when he would be here. Moon Unit, Dweezil, and Frank haven't seen him in years. I think Frank, who is now 11, last saw my dad when he was maybe 1 or 2? So yeah, a long time. And of course, the kids all needed to see their grandpa coz honestly? Who knows when or if they'll see him again.

I knew the chances were good that my dad would show up the same weekend Kismet was moving in. And there was this part of me, a totally psychotic part of me that should have its mouth sewn shut and its hands duct taped to its feet and dunked into a vat of quick-drying cement so as never to have any sort of influence on my thoughts and decisions ever again, that thought it would actually be a good idea, since I have limited time off to use in a year and it would be good to get it all done at one time.

Umm... yeah. So Brad picks up Kismet and brings here home. Then my dad and step-mom show up. And then we go pick up the boys. And Dweezil had fallen off a friend's skate board and injured his wrist. So right after I pick them up and drop Frank off at the house, I run off with Dweezil to the urgent care to get his wrist x-rayed. And we get back and everyone's kinda running around and things seem a bit hectic but I think, "It'll be okay."

And it wasn't. Because I totally went into brain lock the next day. And I couldn't think of a single thing to do with 8 people. I blame Utah for being such a boring state and I'm totally not going to take that back, but it was probably partly me, too. But mostly Utah. And I just. Couldn't. Think. And so? We didn't really do anything.

And then Sunday rolled around and there was more of the same. No thoughts in my head of what to do. And so again, we did nothing. And the whole while, I'm feeling totally stressed out by it. I'm a terrible host. Why can't I think of anything to do with my family? Why can't I take my folks out and show them around? I mean they've been here before and they've seen most of it but still. There's just nothing. I can't think of anything. And I feel like the scum of the earth coz we're just hanging out at the house.

My dad then tells me that they are intending to head out early in the morning so that they can get a jump on things and do some sight-seeing along the way. And there's this horrible other part of me that's breathing a sigh of relief. And also thinking that he's probably bored out of his mind at my house and I'm a lousy host. Because I am.

Monday morning rolls around, Kismet goes off to school in the kind of God-forsaken, early morning hours that only farmers and graveyard shifters getting off work should see. And my folks go at the same time. And me? I sleep through it all while Brad sees off Kismet and my folks. And I kinda feel guilty. But when I get up? I feel sooo much better that the house is empty.

I am never having a houseful again. And if you hear me saying I'm going to do that? Feel free to whack me upside the head with the nearest blunt object you can find.

Stupidity: Chemical Poisoning or Contagion?

Over the last almost two weeks, I have continued to struggle to have any sort of thought in my head. Normally, this is a situation that I would enjoy, not having any particular thoughts entertaining, worrying, distressing, or otherwise affecting my daily mood. Existing without any thoughts can actually be a bit peaceful. Picture a tree by a stream. The tree's leaves are falling into the stream and being slowly carried away. That's how my mind has been lately. Except at night when the peaceful little stream turns into a raging river with many whirlpools and eddies and my thoughts turn into a violent vortex of randomness, lightly sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar, spinning crazily out of control. They keep me awake for what seems like an endless amount of time, possibly due to Brad's fidgetiness that helps keep me awake and incapable of corraling my thoughts. My thoughts be like wild sugar-coated ponies, yo!

Anyway.... I was talking to Brad last night about my inability to string enough thoughts together to write something in my blog. I was all, "What should I write about?", and he was all, "How about you write about Buster (the foster puppy we just had)", and I was all, "But we just returned him. How am I supposed to write about a puppy we just returned?", and he was all, "Well, that's what you should write about", and I just stared at him and during that time he completely forgot I'd been talking to him and, I'm not even kidding, two minutes later, he's totally engrossed in his work again, not helping, and I'm all, "Dude! What should I write about? You're not even helping at all!", and he's all, "Sorry, I forgot. I don't know what you should write about." That's why I'm the one blogging and not him.

So this morning, while I was showering (which seems to be the only time I can string a few thoughts together), I was thinking about how not only am I couch okra brain but Brad has been more unfocused during work lately and he's taking meds to help his focus! And I wondered if there was something in the air that's making us both major space cadets. Well, Brad is always a space cadet but I mean more so than usual. The other night, Brad, Moon Unit, and I all had trouble sleeping. Was it something in the air, I asked myself? And if so, is there something in the air that's currently making us stupid?

Then I started thinking about how sometimes people seem to be in the same sort of mood all at once, even when they're scattered across the country or even in other countries. And I wondered how that happens. People's moods rubbing of on each other? Phases of the moon? Or.... a military cover-up with chemical poisons polluting our air and making us all sleepless or moody or stupid all at the same time?

Normally, stupidity seems contagious. Get a couple of stupid people together and they seem to attract more stupid people. This is particularly prevalent when it comes to politics. (I cite the Tea Party as a perfect example.) However, due to the severe lack of thought processing going on in my head these days, not to mention Brad's inability to focus while being medicated for focusing, I am starting to feel like perhaps the military cover-up is the best explanation for all things unfathomable. If you can't fathom it, it's a military cover-up.

So, what should we all do about these chemical pollutants affecting our daily lives that the military is covering up? Should we write our senators? Sure, if you want your senators to know that you're on to them, since military cover-ups are condoned by our government! Then they'll come into your house at night while you're sleeping, drug you, poke and prod you, and plant false alien abduction memories in your head so that no one will ever believe anything you say ever again coz you're a total crack-pot, dude!

You shouldn't do anything. Please don't be stupid. I'm trying to get over my stupid, I don't want yours, too.