No Regrets

I become, at times, a very sappy/emotional/sentimental/cheesy girl. And today, I'm having one of those days, so I thought it might be cathartic to share.

I'm not sure if it's a female thing that I tend to hang on to things for way too long until I absolutely must purge? Or maybe it's a German thing? We Germans tend to be a frugal sort.... we can't stand to get rid of anything! Waste that good MAD I had going? Shoooot. I grew up in a household where we cut off the moldy corner of the bread and ate the slice anyway, dammit!

For a good girl of strong German heritage, though, I sure am a BIG fan of feng shui, and Rule #1 is Clear Out Your Clutter. So, I go through stages when I become absolutely obsessive about clearing my environment of all the schmutz that's accumulated over a time. But here's the really girly part of it: this process always turns into a self-indulgent, self-reflective, self-creative, self-cleansing process. It becomes a meditation on me, my problems (past, present, future), where I am, where I'm going... basically I get all existential on my ass.

Surprisingly... Never Have I Ever heard a man describe a cleaning day as an exercise in self-examination; and I'm fairly certain that even if I live to a ripe old age, I never will. 

So in the interest of time, and since I really don't feel like cleaning today, I will cathart right here and now:

1. I don't remember signing up to be a friggin sponsor! FOUL BALL, I cry!
2. My choice to satisfy by gastric needs shall not be commanded by your whimsy.
3. Frustration = recurrent promises of an unrequited nature + numerous naysayers + flailing attempts to ameliorate. I'm so disappointed! I'm so disappointed! 
4. I am not an interloper. I don't want another booboo. I just bet on the bottom dollar and hope for the best.

What the hell? May very well be your reaction to all that. And rightly so. I am a pretty private person. Air my dirty laundry in a format that could very well last To Infinity and Beyond! Naaah!

But I feel somewhat better all the same. And now I can get back to brooding over the really important things in life: do the dogs really sleep all day when I'm gone; how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop; if men had breasts, would they ever get out of the shower?

Yes, dear readers, those really are some of the deep and meaningful life questions that occupy my mind. Navigating the depths of me would be like peering through to the bottom of a...................................................... clear running stream. I'm all unknowable and shit. Really.

P.S. If you feel I've mishandled the truth, above, by calling myself a "good" girl, go pound salt! I'm good at lots of things, and since you've just called me a liar, never will you ever be a beneficiary of those goods!

Oh and P.P.S. YES! I know cathart is not a real word! Jeez. How many times do I have to tell you? I make shit up. It keeps me occupied... otherwise I'd have to go clean the house or something.