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Why My Flights of Fancy Can’t Get Off the Runway

Sometimes I imagine, when my toe begins to itch in the middle of the night, that I am an international spy who is being tortured for information, and I must resist, at all costs, the urge to give it all up.  I last about 5 seconds.

When my daughter sings the same five words from a song over and over again, I again imagine that I am a spy being tortured – but in this case I have no information to give up.

Sometimes I imagine that I am a gifted singer singing a duet with Adam Levine on my car radio, and that a recording executive happens to be in the car next to me and will do anything to get my name, including executing foolish maneuvers on the road to get my attention.  I am the only one driving insanely.

Conversely, I also like to imagine that I am a horrible singer and that my voice has completely paralyzed the stalker who is crouched in the back of my car.

When I buy a toy for a future birthday/holiday, etc… and hide it in my closet, I imagine a family member discovering it after I’ve died from a tragic accident (perhaps when the recording executive cut me off in his zeal to sign me to a record contract) and crying hysterically over my thoughtfulness.

When I fling a piece of laundry into the closet, missing the hamper, I imagine a family member discovering bits of lingerie and various stages of embarrassing fat pants  in the nooks and crannies of my closet after I’ve died from a ridiculous freak accident (like jumping in front of a recording executive’s car so he would sign me to a record contract) and posting the evidence of my slovenliness on FaceBook.

I don’t use FaceBook.  One reason is that whenever I imagine myself as a famous dead author, I worry that people will hunt down my Facebook posts and invent elaborate explanations of my writing from the seemingly boring pictures of my mundane existence.

Another Reason Not to Use Facebook - It Makes it Harder to Be an Undercover Spy

Whenever I reflect on my prosaic life story, I imagine that I would make a great spy because seemingly boring people are perfect undercover operatives.

Then I try to go to sleep and my toe begins to itch.

Note to self:  Do NOT EVER AGAIN Look Up “Big Toe” on Google Images.  Gross!!!!!!

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/7876912@N07/6439755299/”>bubjay</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

Update to “They Probably Would Have Kicked Us Out of Austria”

This is not my actual post for today, but I thought those of you who read yesterday’s post might be interested in the Epilogue.  I picked Dimples up from her first day back to school today, and she nearly ran me over in her excitement.  She had choir practice after school, and the music teacher announced that they would be singing songs from Broadway shows for the Spring Concert, including songs from – you guessed it – The Sound of Music.  Perfect Friend, who slept over this weekend and was subjected to a showing of the movie (once I figured out how to download it from iTunes), is also in choir, and was apparently equally thrilled.  Dimples has assured me that she will be informing her music teacher at the next available opportunity of my song revision on my blog.

She is currently wandering around the house singing Jingle Bell Rock.  Go figure.

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