A habit I need to break is my frequent use of the word Dude. However, I’m going to wait a bit (maybe 450 words or so) to completely squash it because it has come in handy lately to lighten a few potentially tough blows.
For example: “Because our insurance changed this morning, a prescription that would have cost $50 yesterday may cost over $200 today.”
NOW, read it THIS way: “DUDE! Because our insurance changed this morning, a prescription that would have cost $50 yesterday may cost over $200 today.”
Slightly better, right? (Also: IT’S A TRUE STORY.) 2017 is 1/6 of the way over, and I guess that’s good. Four hours is 1/6 of the day, so we’re sort of at four in the morning on this year, and didn’t Night Ranger sing a song about Four in the Morning? (They did.) 2017 hasn’t been my favorite.
Please know that I just listened to the Night Ranger song and I knew every single word. It’s interesting how my brain holds lyrics from the 80s, but it can’t retain the code to open our garage door from the outside.
Dude. Why do I have to spend time trying to track down a box from Thailand that’s filled with tiny Styrofoam balls? (Answer: Because Harper is making slime and she wants texture, so she ordered tiny Styrofoam balls. From Thailand. AND, I was supposed to sign for it but I didn’t make it to the door in time and are you still reading about the tiny balls? I love you.)
Dude. I have a friend who performs KIDNEY TRANSPLANTS, yet I’m having a hard time stirring up the energy to drive to the store for walnuts. It’s a five minute drive that I could probably do with my eyes closed. In fact, I believe I will. Later. Maybe.
Dude. Did you know that kids with lice are no longer required to stay home from school until there is no evidence of lice?! Apparently, hitting the school district attendance goal is more important than controlling a potentially wanderlusting gaggle of blood-sucking vermin.
I woke up on Sunday morning and felt an undeniable urge to knit an Obama washcloth. I drove to church, stood up in front of the congregation to read a few passages, mispronounced the word Clothes as Clowthes, forgot to ask God to help us find truth and guidance in these words (it’s a thing we do), sat back down feeling like a real jerk, ran out the side door when the service ended, drove to a craft dump for cheap cotton yarn, and before the Oscars were over, I had this guy on my chest. (I followed a pattern. I’m not a wizard.)
AND with that, I believe I’ve now duded enough. It’s like when you decide to quit smoking after smoking four back to back packs of Camels. Or when you drink a little too much tequila and you end up throwing up and then you never want to see another bottle of tequila. (And this is where I would say something like “Been There, Done That” but that’s even more overdone than Dude.)