I know I have lived alone since the end of summer 2005 when my baby left for college, so it is to be expected that my social skills might grow a bit rusty. People grow eccentric and "dreamy" living alone if they are not careful. Because no one is around to care, I talk to the animals, cuss at inanimate objects (flat tires for instance), and argue with myself. In fact, I have to be careful at the grocery store. Sometimes I catch myself speaking aloud there. It is incredibly embarrassing! I might be deep into a replay of a real and remembered conversation, performing edits. You know - what you wish you had said? I must appear so crazy and pathetic.
I saw a poor elderly person just the other day walking along, cussing, shaking her head, having a terrible dispute with either people only she could see, or people she only remembers, like I do. She is who I am devolving into, I guess. (Note to self: in the near future, when I am routinely speaking to myself in public, make absolutely certain to be well dressed before I leave home - far better than I usually dress now. Talking out loud to invisible people while dressed like a bag lady paints such an entirely unfortunate picture.)
So, yesterday, I am in fact talking to real person, Dan the builder of my new house, going over a host of final details: does this door open to the left and in, and what shelves do I want in this closet. So, already I am in the part of my brain that requires imagination and possibilities, and in that stream of consciousness, I was saying the goddamnest idiot stuff! Whatever came into my mind, I said out loud. Oh my GOD. I am certain Dan and the other guys who heard it all are convinced I am bat-shit crazy. I do not know much about bat shit, but it must be the worst sort of crazy an old woman can be.
As I was walking away from the house, I wanted to turn around and shout back to those men, "I'm not really bat-shit crazy! You just caught me at a bad time of the morning!" Luckily for me, I was able to slam a halt on that impulse. Oh my God.