ME: Yeesh! What a weird night and day!
TIM: Oh goody. I'm on the edge of my seat.
ME: That lacks sincerity Tim.
TIM: Well of course it does! You were expecting maybe...I don't know, who were you expecting?
ME: No one else Tim. No one else.
TIM: Holla at cha boy.
ME: Oh for crying out loud.
TIM: Okay okay.
ME: Well, last night I woke up at 3:00 in the morning.
TIM: Fascinating! Sell the movie rights, quick!
ME: That's not the story Tim.
ME: And I was thirsty, so I took a swig of my water bottle from the night table. Peter, who wakes up if I dream too loud, then asked if he could have a drink also so I handed him the bottle and he took a drink. He handed me back the bottle and as I attempted to put it on the nightstand, I displaced a pile of books and they all tumbled down and fell onto the floor, scaring my poor little dog, but I finally managed to put the bottle of water down. What's so weird is, I just thought the entire scene was hysterical! I started giggling incessantly. I fell onto my back and just lost it. I was insane with laughter. I could barely breathe. I was an idiot!
TIM: I see. What was your husband doing during all of this gaiety?
ME: He just laid there, on his side, facing away from me. He never even turned over to face me. He just waited for me to stop. When I was finally gasping my last snorts of glee, he referenced an old inside joke he's made a few times.
TIM: Which is what?
ME: You won't get it. It's an inside joke.
TIM: I understand. I'm just curious.
ME: He said, "What part of the evidence don't you understand"?
TIM: That's stupid.
ME: Yeesh Tim, I told you you wouldn't get it.
TIM: That doesn't stop it from sounding stupid?
TIM: Go on.
ME: So, a couple of hours later I'm at MacDonald's ordering a diet drink and this lady steps in front of me and says, "MOVE!" all mean. So I move out of her way because, I mean, who WOULDN'T? And then she utters under her breath, "asshole". And I started laughing AGAIN!!!
TIM: I am stunned.
ME: I know, right? I laughed after being called an asshole.
TIM: I'm stunned that you're ordering diet soda that early in the morning. Do you have a death wish?
ME: Stay with me here Tim. I'm laughing after being called a name. That's the gist of the story.
TIM: Fine, but I'll revisit that diet soda for breakfast in the future.
ME: I'm sure. Anyway, then I go to the hospital for an MRI of my brain because my episodic amnesia has been worse of late. The tech asks me if I'm claustrophobic. I say, "Oh yea!". He lets me listen to Classical music. Cool. But first he stuffs my ears with foam plugs. That's counter-intuitive to me, but okay. Then he puts the headphones on. The music starts, I go into the tube, I start to relax to Pachebel's Canon, and then THIS HIDEOUS CLACKING STARTS. What do I do? Do I freak out? No. I start smiling!!!
What the heck?
TIM: And your concern is?
ME: I don't know if it's concern. I just found all of these experiences interesting, to say the least.
TIM: You never say the least about anything. Look how long this entry is. Look at it! It's huge already. No one is going to read this!
ME: Tim, it's not really about anyone reading it as much as it's about you and I processing things.
TIM: No. It's about people reading it.
ME: Are you going to help me figure out why I'm smiling and laughing at stuff that should make me crazy or irritated?
TIM: You're mentally healthy?
ME: No. I'm talking to you.
TIM: Fine. Be nasty.
ME: That's not what I meant. Oh forget it. I'm just going to keep smiling. I'm not going to worry about it until I stop feeling good. Does that make sense?
TIM: Makes perfect sense to me? But considering I'm an imaginary voice in your head, that shouldn't really give you too much comfort. Hey! Did you hear the poem by the schizophrenic? "Roses are red, violets are blue. I'm a schizophrenic and so am I!"