Because my brain is on overload and storage space is limited some of my files must be purged.  I fear a crash is imminent; therefore, I must download some of my files *here*. Where else?  You’re welcome.  It would be a shame to lose some of these riveting thoughts.   I must warn you that my Benadryl induced sleep is threatening to kick in and may very well hinder me from forming several coherent sentences.

*You heard it here first! Courtney may be the next member of the Chipettes.  She totally has the look after having her wisdom teeth removed yesterday.  The high-pitched squeaky voice needs more work but that’ll come when the pain eases up.  Seriously, pray for her quick recovery.  Our local Popeyes is running out of mashed potatoes and gravy.

*My computer monitor went out recently.  Its replacement went out yesterday.  My cable/DVR remote started acting wonky last night. Could this mean the Lord wants me do a media fast?  Because I only  have a small window of time before Courtney fully recovers and demands the return of her laptop.

*Why is Willy Wonka trying to take over my life? Is it not enough that Sophie wants to watch Joe’s copy of the original every single day? Why did I think it was such a great idea for his stocking several years ago?  And I’m sorry, Johnny, but the latest version is no better.  I’m pretty sure Joe rented it for Sophie just to torture me. If I never see another Oompa Loompa again it will be too soon.  I’m almost certain that commercial for who knows what with the theme song by Gene Wilder is some kind of conspiracy.  As much as I love chocolate I can’t even bear to watch the commercial for the new Wonka bars.  I fear I may have to drop wonky from my current list of favorite words.

*Why is Sophie next in line to Willy Wonka to take over my life?  I don’t crawl in her bed in the  middle of the night and pee on her.  And I don’t mind sharing some things like my nightly snack of popcorn with her but she’s crossing the line with my cell phone.  I’m just not sure I can stick to my rule of no cell phone until age 13.  Get your own, Sophie!  And next time I’m bathing  you first, kid!  Maybe that’ll keep her from wanting to join me.  Not even my grocery list is off limits. Tonight she ripped it off the note pad and handed it to me with h-o-l-l added to it. After I huffed and puffed at her about writing on my lists I asked her what she wrote. “Grits,” she answered with no remorse at all.  Grits. H-o-l-l. Grits. Like we don’t already have every Grit flavor imaginable in the pantry.

It’s fuzzy now but I’m pretty sure I had another stack of thoughts filed away that I intended to download here.  You can thank Benadryl that you’re spared. I’ll be drifting off soon and hopefully dreaming of beaches without oil and the safe return home of my son-in-law from Iraq.