I started talking to the cat...

I've decided it.

I'm destined.

It's written in the stars.

I am going to be one of those crazy, frumpy old-maids that you always see in movies (and rarely in real life.) But that's what I'm going to be! I feel a sense of peace in knowning my calling...

:)

It came about like this.... Yesterday, as many of you know, was horribly cold, blustery, and wet. Yesterday, as many of you DON'T know, I had a 7:30 lab. I also had a huge test in Cognitive Neuroscience. Translation: I got a little over 3 hours of sleep and spent a total of maybe 10 minutes getting ready (including shower.) It was pretty much amazing. However, my appearance was not. I wore my black sweatpants (which I bought in the men's section at Walmart because they were thicker, black (instead of pink), and about $20 cheaper.) however, because these pants were purchased in the men's section, and men (as a general rule) have longer torsos than I, (and longer legs for that matter...) the pants must be hiked up almost to my shoulders in order to be the appropriate length. But they're comfy. So I hiked.

Also, on very damp days my hair becomes its own seperate person, in volume as well as in attitude. I didn't have time to do anything but shower and run some mousse through it. So it grew. And grew. All day. Until I looked like a red-headed Medusa.

So I completed step one towrads becoming a crazy old-maid: the appearance. Sweatpants and Medusa-hair are hardly complimentary...

Step two... I developed a very lazy, lacadaisical mentality. I left work early. I ceased to study for my test, and I watched substantial amounts of TV. Watching TV in (men's!) sweatpants on a Thursday when you should be reading mythology is the first sign that you're letting yourself go.

I also fell into the trap of thinking that I was "cute" and "attractive" when I wasn't. Everyone knows that single old-maids do this. (Okay, maybe not.... just in the books I've read....) But anyways, I tried to shmooze the Cingular man, the lunch lady, and the cashier. Only the cashier responded. I think that's because she was bored. I was always bored when I was a cashier.

So plainly, I cannot fall much further- I looked like trash, became lazy, and developed the delusion of beauty. The only thing else I could do to complete the old-maid stereotype would be talking to a cat, or something...

So.... I started talking to the cat. Yes. I did. We carried on conversations and I retorted to his every look and action. He was rather peeved. I would be too. But for crying out loud! There was no one else there! The family left. I was all alone. And completely frumpy, lazy, bored, and beauty-less. What was left but the cat?!?!

I like looking frumpy. (or rather, being comfy.)

I like being lazy.

I like thinking I'm attractive. (Though I'm not so keen on the reality of not being attractive...)

I like talking to the cat.

I think I'm going to like being an old maid. It's very restful. ;)