the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2
There are conversations in our house that are just plain bizarre. Since we eat dinner at the table 99% of the time, many of them happen then. These randomly strung together thoughts may go from Dr. Who to eating corn on the cob to Eminem. These are perfectly normal conversations and make sense to us. Not abnormal, but strange in the makeup.
This carries us to the conversation my dear hubby and I had while getting ready for work today. It started with our dog Rolf. Last night, when asked if he wanted to go outside, he farted in response. Clearly this means NOW. We obliged immediately to his relief.
“Our dog poops as big as a bear. I don’t want THAT mess in the house ever again.” I had the pleasure of cleaning it up once when a frantic babysitter called right after I left the house. I went back and used a half a roll of paper towels. Once was definitely enough.
“Have you ever seen a bear shit in the woods?” said hubby.
“If I see a bear, I am not sticking around to see it shit,” I replied, “So no I haven’t. Have you?”
“But I bet it is on YouTube,” I said. “And considering the bizarreness of your YouTube feed, I’m sure you’ll be adding THAT to the logic.”
“You know I will.”
“I wonder if they study the randomness of your searches on YouTube.”
He proudly said, “It’s all over the place.”
And now it is added to not only his YouTube logic, but MINE, thanks to a text link I received at work this morning. I knew what it was even before looking. If you click here, and I am warning you, it will be a part of yours YouTube feed as well. I will say, I think that bear had a FEW too many berries. This bear is the, “Straight through like a freight train,” poster child.
Ah, the randomness of life. Celebrate it! Promise yourself to go with the flow of the day today, then pick your path.
Not looking forward to other animals shitting showing up with Skrillex videos.
I will still eat wild bluberries and salmon,
P.S. In reference to Robert Frost’s awesome poem. Here is the man reading it and the poem below.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.