Somedays, I am just a big pile of goo. And by that I mean, I'm a mess. I'm a giant amoeba with boundaries that are all over the place, threatening to spill out over everything without any notice.
And other days, I'm all neat and tidy. My ducks are not only in a row, they are moving forward with a purpose.
I wish I knew what happens in the brain that allows such a shift.
Are women the only ones who experience such things? Am I the only one? Say it ain't so. Say it ain't so. It ain't so. Right?
Today is a goo day. Perhaps I will coin that phrase, "goo day." Though if I say it aloud, people will think I am saying "Good day" and that I just have a speech impediment. And they will smile at me, but in their heads they will be thinking, "Poor thing. Such a tragedy that her speech is so bad."
In my head, that makes me laugh out loud. Imagine the conversation.
"Good Morning. How are you?"
"I'm having a goo day."
"Oh, well that's good. Me too."
Tee hee.
I feel more duck-like already, just imagining that in my head.
All that to say, Here's to the goo days and the duck days.
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