I have been going around picking up special ornaments and putting them in a box I will mark SPECIAL ORNAMENTS. I have even taken pictures of each layer as the box fills so that I will be able to jog my memory. Yes, I do feel crazy, but I am not concerned about it. I am using a small box so I can keep it tucked away in an accessible corner. I may have to use two boxes, which means I just might have to alter my plans and write SPECIAL ORNAMENTS #1 and SPECIAL ORNAMENTS #2.

You know, not caring about being crazy is not a bad feeling – kind of liberating. However, I now find it scary to think, “What if I am not crazy?”  There are times I find myself defeating myself . . . and it happens so easily.

But, enough of me, the charming and scintillating AmeliaJake; let’s think about you. Yes, YOU. I’m doing it – the thinking about you part; I’ve been doing it for about five minutes since I typed that capitalized “you”. I probably should have left a blank expanse to indicate I was here, thinking, but not typing. Otherwise, it seems as if it is nothing but lip service. or, to be accurate, finger service. Oh, I didn’t think that out – the substitution of “finger” for “lip”  – and I should have because it has a rather coarse ring to it.

Obviously, I am no longer thinking of you because  I have been typing along mindlessly and only thinking when I wandered into a faux pax and considered using the delete key. I though about that and am re-thinking it now.

See, that space was me thinking. And, suddenly, it occurs to me that there are very few blank spaces in my writing. Either I do not think or I think on my feet, or, to be accurate, think with my fingers. And, then . . . again, suddenly, but apparently not suddenly enough, it occurs to me that I should just not type.

No, I am not intoxicated