If you are me, you’re quite taken aback and wonder, what the fuck? Is this something people do? Really?

I guess I could see it if I were about 88, if I had a car load of kids, or if I seemed to be struggling. But it was just me and I like to think that I don’t look a day over 36.5. I could have even understood it if it were -30 degrees out. But on a crisp, clear fall night?

It totally weirded me out. Because even after my initial, no thank you, the dude asked me if I was sure. And while I didn’t say it, I thought, yeah I am perfectly capable of walking three entire parking spots away. Instead, I just said, no thank you again.

Maybe I strike people as someone who can’t properly return her cart to the cart corral. Or maybe hippie-looking dudes at the Savage Super-T are just excessively polite and helpful.

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My brain seems to think this is an awful lot to expect from a single day, much less a Monday. Whenever my mind lands on one of the two things it has to do tomorrow it freaks out. “AAAHHH it screams, we have to go to the grocery store AND go to class. We better get up early so we can go to the Super T and still make it to class.” The part of my brain in charge of freaking out does not at all listen to the part of my brain that says, “class isn’t until 6:30, moron, I think you can squeeze in both events.”

This is what happens to your brain when it doesn’t have to punch a clock for six months. It misses the petty office dramas and its ability to make minute become momentous. To keep flexing its drama queen muscles my brain creates drama all on its own.

Besides the too much to do drama my brain has become a big fan of the worrying about forgetting things drama. Like, for instance, the River Rocks Music Festival yesterday. My brain was worried for the entire week that I’d forget to go. So whenever it had a spare moment it would say, “Don’t forget that concert.” And the part of my brain that is kind of a wuss would say, “oh shit, I almost forgot.” This would make total sense if the two sides of my brain didn’t have this conversation about sixty-eight times a day for a week.

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Sure, sure I could buy it for myself, but that’s not the point. The point is that I’m having a bit of a moment having just shelled a heap of cash for a beautiful wedding gift. It’s pretty cool, what I got the happy coupld and it’s not that I mind spending the money, because I love the people getting married and couldn’t be happier being able to celebrate with them. It will be a lovely and glorious wedding, and I cannot wait to attend.

But, let’s face it, I ain’t ever getting married and really there is no other event that I can think of where someone would buy you a gravy boat. This might rank up there in the top-ten all time biggest tragedies of my life.

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