Imagine.

I have a strange imagination.

I realized this particularly today when I was driving home from work and saw the fence post and electrical box which make me think I’m in a sweeping epic romance story every time I drive past them. I’ve felt this way about this particular fence post and electrical box every time I’ve driven past them for the past year, but I had never really thought about the fact that this might be a strange way of thinking about a fence post and electrical box.

Also, whenever I see a crop duster, I feel as though I’m in WWII. Don’t ask me why. It may be something desperately wrong with me from my childhood and I might not want to talk about it. I’m not sure.

And it really is true that whenever I start updating my blog again, it makes me want to do it more, more, More! I’m not sure where the long months of silence fit that scenario, but . . . it may be something desperately wrong with me from my childhood and I might not want to talk about it. I’m not sure.

Also, I had a very strange dream last night. I woke up yelling at someone and nearly in tears. I was worked up about it for the rest of the day. It was actually a hilarious dream when I sat down and thought about it. Here’s a quote from my dream: “That Paul guy, from the New Testament? Yeah . . . he was Amish.”

Don’t ask. It may be something desperately . . . ahem.

I had a wonderful childhood.

And I’ll end on that note.

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3 thoughts on “Imagine.

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