When I have something on my mind, I tend to space out.

For instance, in the last two weeks I have ruined two brand new gallons of Edie’s Chocolate Ice Cream because my brain is stuck in neutral. Instead of putting them in the freezer where they belong, I stuck them in the fridge.

I go back for more and it’s ruined. It makes me want to scream.
I have put the bread in the fridge, left a can of pop to explode in the freezer and, even weirder than that, I left a bag of potato chips in the bathroom.

And, before you ask; no, I have no idea why on earth I’d have potato chips in the bathroom in the first place. I don’t make a habit of eating potato chips in the bathroom, but lately, anything is possible.

And this isn’t even the tip of the ice burg.

As far as what is actually on my mind is concerned-take your pick. There are several different things swirling around in my attic at the moment and I can’t seem to get a grip on just one.

It’s frustrating.

To start, my brain is chocked full of book characters. They are as real to me as you are, and I can’t tell you how distracting it is.

They actually converse with each other in my head. I can see what they’re wearing, the surroundings they’re in and hear the tone of their voices as if they were standing in the room with me.

It can make a girl feel a little weird. Having conversations with people who don’t actually exist is usually means you have crossed the border between Normalville and Crazy Town.

I expect the men in the little white coats to be visiting me soon.

If the pretend people aren’t enough, there is plenty more to keep my mind occupied.

In particular, my left eye.

A month or so ago, I woke up one morning with my eye screaming in pain. Thinking there might be something in it, I reached up and rubbed it, hoping to get whatever it was out.

That only made things worse.

I ran into the bathroom and, carefully, lifted my eyelid to see what the heck was going on.

Apparently at some point in the night, one of my eye crusties went rogue and somehow managed to get underneath my eyelid.

When I rubbed it, the eye crusty scratched the surface of my eyeball making a very simple problem a lot worse.

I went to the eye doctor, got some medicine and waited for it to fix itself.

It didn’t. Through a series of complications that were absolutely not my fault, my tiny injury has gone from minor to serious.

How many people can say they ruined a perfectly good cornea with an eye booger?

Like my husband says, while shaking his head in awe, “Only you, Mandi. Only you.”

I can’t sass him back because, to be honest, I think he might be right.

Don’t tell him I said that, or anything. If he thinks he might be right about something, he’ll get the big head. I can’t live with a big-headed husband.

I’d hate to make him sleep in the cellar. It’s cold outside.

Regardless of what is on my mind, I have got to get it together. If I ruin one more gallon of ice cream, or eye for that matter, I’m going to be in some serious trouble.

I thought about learning to meditate. I then realized that I couldn’t sit in that weird reverse Indian Style position they do and decided that a pulled muscle would probably only add things to my list of woes, not subtract them.

I’ve hear jogging is a nice way to clear you head. But, I don’t like to sweat, wheeze or faint. So, that’s out of the question.

Maybe I’ll take up painting?

No. That won’t work either. Unless the Pendleton Arts Center in Ashland needs an abstract stick man painter, I’m useless.

Maybe I just need a little peace and quiet? Or a nap?

Or both?

Hopefully I figure something out soon. Otherwise, I’m going to spend an entire paycheck replacing ruined ice cream and get a bank loan to replace both eyeballs.

Until next week, remember: The Ben and Jerry’s goes in the freezer.

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