Sunday, August 9, 2009
I'm leaving for Puerto Rico in less than 2 hours and instead of cleaning my room, I'm blogging.
I get so dramatic before I leave on a trip. Whether its travel for work or a leisurely vacation, I always fear something will happen to me and leave me unable to do my mundane activities like clean my toilet with a toothbrush, run in the rain on Christmas, or dance to Michael Jackson in my underwear.
I need to clean my room in case something happens. Say someone pushes me off the curb at LAX and I get hit by a taxi. Or I get accosted by the Hindu monks because I won't accept their religious leaflets. Or a crazy soccer mom with a headset and a baby carriage wheels over my big toe, backing me into some scaffolding, which shakes loose a lead pipe, which lands on my head. What then? After the ambulance, the hospital, the funeral, and the trays of cheese cubes on foil toothpicks, someone will have to clean my room.
As of now, my bed has gone unmade and I have laundry sitting of drawer begging to be put in its appropriate place. To make things worse I decided to clean out my closet, but got bored halfway through, and opted to blog in my maid-of-honor dress from Jennie's wedding two years ago. So here I am... typing on the floor... in a black evening gown... because my desk and chair are covered with clothes that have no home in my room.
Before I end my dramaticism, I just wanted to say thanks to the crazy people who check this blog daily. Okay, okay, maybe you're not crazy, but like I said, I'm dramatic. In all honestly, I'm humbled by the fact that people visit the site, but I'm truly grateful that you do. I don't want to get sappy and start hugging my computer, but in case anything happens to me I wanted to let you know that I love sharing my daily ramblings. And if anyone wears a size 9, I will you my new pair of Michael Kors heels if anything happens to me.
I will be blogging from Puerto Rica and uploading photos, so hope you join me on the journey. But right now, I've got to put on my running shoes, clean my toilet with a toothbrush, and start dancing to Michael. Adios!