I Might Be A Russian Spy

Somebody I work with told me. Which is news to me, as I'm neither Russian nor aware of my spying duties and so am probably doing a horrible job at it. Anyway...

I'm bored. And my stomach keeps growling but seriously kids, I do not feel hungry. WTH is wrong with my stomach? Shut up already; you're being obnoxious. People are beginning to wonder if I'm talking to myself in Bison or something. (Yes, that's totally a language. Don't question me.)

I finally couldn't take it anymore and painted my own room in our new house because I needed a space that was mine and not anyone else's. It's freaking adorable, and if I can stop slacking, I will post pictures tonight. You'll love it. Or else.

I just want to make something. If I weren't at work right now (not that I'm blogging at work or anything) I would be home creating something. I am so happy to have a new craft room to go home and be crafty in! I can't wait. I have no idea what I'm going to make but I know it will be fantastic.

You ever have those days where your mind is running a million miles a minute and from one train of thought to the next? I find it's a whole lot easier to keep to myself on days like those (today) because it is hard for people to keep up with me and my brain. Unless you're Shelby and then she totally follows because apparently, ADHD is a genetic disorder and crazy also seems to run in the family. Right now my brain is jumping from one subject to the next - what I want to make tonight and then where it's going to go, what to cook for dinner, what the yard is going to look like after all is said and done - and hundreds of other things that I assume no normal people think about on a day-to-day basis (seriously; I find it hard to believe anyone but me would think about organizing the cans in the pantry by heighth and then alphabetically).

When we first moved in to this house, I hated living there so much because it didn't feel like home and I didn't feel safe there; I went to this mental place where I felt like my entire life was temporary and I didn't need to take care of anything that really keeps me sane because it would all be changing soon. Have you ever felt like you were living a borrowed life? Like everything around you (even the non-tangibles) was someone else's and you were just going to have to give it all back? I finally broke a couple of weeks ago and realized that like it or not, this was going to be home for the next three to five years, and have since then been endlessly organizing the entire house - the closets, the kitchen, the pantry, the cat... Things are slowly getting back to normal in my brain as well (hrm... not sure my "normal" is anyone else's "normal") because my OCD is finally back on track. (And the peasants rejoiced!)

Now that I've released the beast, I can't keep anything under control in my thought processes. I have already planned to redo the downstairs living room so I can move the second TV, couches, and exercise stuff down there to be our second living room, and then turn the room where all of that is now, into Punk's room.

I think I need to stop now. If you're still reading, congratulations! I don't know if I would have made it. Have a great Thursday!