Early Tired Tuesday or Late Monstrous Monday?

Is this going to be an entire week of late blog posts?  It is too early to tell, but I do not like the way it is trending.  Of course it is within my power to change the trend, but last night it did not feel that way.  So I started my Tired Tuesday early.  Sue me.

Isn’t he nice?

I put in a monster to cheer things up.  This pleasant fellow is from The Brain That Wouldn’t Die, one of my favorite cheesy horror movies.

Getting back to me (it is all about me, isn’t it?), I have been wanting to tell somebody a kind of a weird thing I have noticed about myself lately.  Everything I do, I keep saying out loud I have done it, so I don’t forget.

It started out innocently enough: when I would cook myself breakfast in the morning, I would say, “Turning off the stove on Monday” (it was especially helpful to say the day, as I have breakfast every morning) (it is the most important meal of the day, so I have heard).  This saved me calling my husband Steve from work and asking if I did, which was good when I went in at five and he went back to bed.

The habit is also helpful with things like car keys or my purse, which I tend to set down in handy places while getting ready to go out the door.  Yes, yes, I know: leave them in the same place all the time.  I’m talking about when you pick up your keys and say, “Oh yeah, I need a blahblah” and have to set your keys down to fetch it.

“I don’t know why she wanted me in this blog post.”

Another monster to interrupt what I fear are too many words.  I’m sure regular readers recognize Nosferatu.

Anyways, I find myself narrating a lot of my actions these days, “Putting on deodorant on Tuesday” (which I am sure my co-workers appreciate), “Putting my socks on the coffee table,” “My keys are on the floor next to my water bottle,” and of course, the very important, “Turning the coffee maker off, the stove was never on, the toaster oven has cooled off.”  Because I can no longer call Steven to make sure I do not burn down the house.

And I guess that last sentence says it all.  Widow brain.  It’s a thing.