It’s late. I want to sleep. My brain, however, appears to have another plan for me. Why the hell does it have to work that way? All fucking day long, not one coherent thought, but the minute the sun goes down and it’s time to lay my head on a pillow, my mind has LOTS to say.
I think that if this doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to take a page from Homer Simpson’s book and. Poke. My. Brain. With. A. Q-Tip.
That’s sure to teach it a lesson.
The worst part?? They’re not brilliant thoughts. You’re reading them now. You know… they are just thoughts. Stupid thoughts. Thoughts that somehow coincide with a cartoon character created to showcase human stupidity at its best.
I shan’t wait by the phone for that call from Mensa then…