Well it’s happened. I have spent my whole life trying to avoid this, but it’s come and gone and it’s far too late to do anything about it. I’ve turned into a crazy person.
How did I let it come to this? How did I get to the point where my head feels like it’s going to explode [and this on a daily basis, not just once a month like some women]. I actually have been daydreaming about what it would be like to have my head explode. I don’t think it would be gruesome, like one might suppose. If my head exploded, I’m pretty sure the entire room would fill with tangible chaos, in the form of miniature cuckoo-clock birds. They’d all still be attached to my brain stem by varying lengths of springs, so that they could bounce around and try to free themselves of the House of Horrors that is my head, but would invariably fly right back to the root of their confines. In their quest for freedom (and a newer, sounder mind to occupy), there’s no doubt that these frenzied creatures would ricochet off of every solid surface, like some sort of eternal flying wind-up cars. And of course there would be wacky coloured spirals and sound effects, rivaled in bizarreness only by Roger Rabbit’s “boings!” and “bongs!” in ToonTown, USA.
All this because I am trying to plan a wedding. If I hadn’t already lost my mind, it would have told me long ago to do the smart thing, and elope.