I’m Speechless: My Brain Was Taken In The Rapture

Well, I’m speechless. Maybe that’s not the right word. I can’t stop typing, but I don’t have anything to say. I think my brain might have been taken in the rapture last night and I have just been left with this body to work with. Wait…does that mean I am a zombie? How would I know? It’s also possible that my brain was taken in one of the previously scheduled apocalypses and I have been walking around like a zombie for quite some time now. I am positive, at least, that my memory went up in smoke or got burned down…or something. I don’t know. I have nothing to write about. I am not prepared. I mean, it was supposed to be the end of the world so planning ahead seemed kind of moot yesterday. Also, I was busy eating cookies and ice cream. Although, to be fair, that’s not a whole lot different from how I spend most other days.

I haven’t finished my Christmas shopping and things keep happening that are preventing me from heading to the store. Snow, flat tire, my family is with me every second. I am running out of time. I am starting to wonder if I can get away with just telling everyone they have been naughty this year. I mean, we do have a wood stove full of coal. That would make it so much easier! It would also be hilarious to see all of those coal smudged faces staring back at me in disbelief. Good times.

Jim keeps saying, “I thought you were going to make all of your gifts this year.” I just stare at him with a blank face, thinking back to a month ago when I was filled with so much hope and optimism about my ability to come up with, design, and package homemade items worthy of gift giving. I was so young and naive back then. Those were the good old days.

I still have a chance to redeem myself. I can bake fancy cakes or paint fancy paints (I don’t even know what that means) or I can collect rocks in the yard and put them in a box (Jim actually gave my sister a box-o-rocks for Christmas two years ago). I could make felt fox pillows. I can’t even rhyme today…this is what I am talking about here. I need to turn to Pinterest in desperation for inspiration or Google “Fast homemade Christmas gifts that can be made using just string, wire, and chewed bubble gum.” I need the MacGyver of Pinterest right now. What ever happened to MacGyver anyway? I could really use his help right now. Remember how he could go into a garage with a broken coat hanger, a surf board, and some duct tape and come out flying an airplane? This is what I am talking about. I need a Christmas morning miracle to occur in the arts and crafts department.

I also need to get off of the computer. Avoid all types of social media. Stop begging my friends to save me from myself. Stop going to Twitter to make fun of myself. In short, I need an intervention over here. I am pretty sure this is not going to happen. I probably suffer from Internet Addiction Disorder and brain rapture all at the same time.

I have a feeling my homemade gifts will be received with goofy smiles and shouts of, “Wow. I’m speechless.” Maybe they will wish I had just given them the coal. Either way, I can’t think of anything to write about today. I’m rambling and I’m speechless and I apologize for subjecting you to my raptured brain.

Good luck surviving Christmas. If you made it through the apocalypse…at least three times now, I am sure a little bad gift giving won’t do you in…or coal. I also hope you haven’t been rendered speechless like me.

 

 

Need a laugh after that? Try reading this: It’s A “Do-Me” Life: When Blog Names Go Horribly Wrong. Or This: If You Give A Toddler A Cookie She’ll Throw It In The Bathtub With You.

12 thoughts on “I’m Speechless: My Brain Was Taken In The Rapture”

  1. Stream of consciousness, we used to play that game. Here’s what you do for the gifts, ALSO wrap up some coal. Anyone who doesn’t appropriately “ooh” and “aah” over your homemade gifts, just give them the coal and tell them that this is what you had meant to give them! I’m so glad I got to “meet” you and your raptured brain this year.

    1. It might be easier to make fancy pants…or cranky pants. ๐Ÿ™‚ Can’t stop giggling about a box of asphalt. Nothing quite says “You are on my naughty list” like a box of asphalt!

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