Have you ever been talking to someone and right in the middle of your story you realize that you are rambling? And that you are boring, deadeningly boring? And then you wonder why you even launched into this somewhat overly intimate story? And you can see your victim’s eyes darting about in the classic signal commonly known as I’m trapped by this lunatic who won’t stop over-disclosing to me?
But you can’t stop because you’re in the middle of a ten-part story and why in the world did you start and so you rush to the end of the story and then you decide you will never again venture into public where you might bore people with your ridiculous stories about things that happened to you twenty years ago?
And so you renew your commitment to being a hermit? Only you call it Enjoying Solitude so no one will think you truly are missing a screw? Even though you are missing about seven screws, but that’s another long story which you will avoid telling? Because there are good reasons why our head rattles loose from time to time but honestly, none worth voicing aloud? Especially to fresh-faced twenty-something members of the human race who have no time for 45-year old women who are starved for human interaction?
Well, maybe that’s just me.
Forget I mentioned it.