I’m full of the twitch. (And I don’t mean the lovable superstar hip-hop phenom from SYTYCD. Though being full of Twitch probably wouldn’t be all bad. Crap, four sentences in and I’m already in the gutter. That’s gotta be some sort of record.)
I’ve been upping my caffeine intake to try and combat my NoGoFreBouScanNoMo brain sludge. I’m up to three cups a day of caffeinated stuff. I won’t drink coffee, though. I refuse to drink dirty brown water. Unless you count the water I drink when a water main breaks in Hoboken. Then I drink dirty brown water all the time – three times just this past week, in fact!
Not that weird contaminants in water are exactly the kind of things that cause lymphoma in thirty-something women. Not that these thoughts make a girl’s brain sludgier. Not that a sludgier brain drives a girl to drink more caffeine. And then the twitching starts. *sigh*
Coincidentally, I watched Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog five times over the weekend because nothing makes me happier than celebrating the comedic timing and musical stylings of my future best friend, Neil Patrick Harris. Not that mentioning that fact in any way contributes to the theme of this blog post. Not that this post has a theme. I just can’t resist working NPH in whenever possible. (That’s what he said.)
So as you can doubtlessly already tell from this well-crafted and coherent post, the increase in my caffeine consumption is working wonders for my mental clarity. Now instead of sitting here for hours at a time trying to remember what I was going to say, I’m bouncing here for hours at a time trying to remember what I was going to say and occasionally leaping from my seat to run laps around the living room while singing, “We do the weird stuff!”
Speaking of weird stuff, I can always count on writing a Craftastrophe post to make me feel like a normal and relatively functional human being. This one is no exception. If I ever start building Mildred a wardrobe, somebody slap me, k?
And we’re back to the caffeine…it’s like magnets. How does it work? How early in the day do I have to stop drinking it so that I can still sleep at night? Because if I don’t stop reciting the opening credits to Law & Order while pumping my fists at the ceiling instead of sleeping, Rocco is going to hemorrhage. I’ve noticed he’s started drinking more caffeine, too. Go figure.
Research says I’m supposed to drink five cups of caffeine each day to stave off dementia and keep my brain working. FIVE CUPS. Three already has me twitching uncontrollably and jumping at the slightest sound. This morning I screamed like a howler monkey when Mildred jumped on my desk. Plus caffeine makes me have to pee a lot. And it’s never a good combination for me to have a full bladder and a jumpy disposition.
Has anyone else notice that steaming tea kettles sound like pubescent screaming Justin Bieber fans watching him being attacked my Lily Allen with a chainsaw?
Coincidentally, I’ll be doing a load of laundry later this afternoon.