I should probably stop texting people. Or maybe interacting with them, period.

When you get a bad review from one person, you know enough to discount it. Maybe a second person echoes the sentiment. You think, “Hmmm, I’ve heard that before. Thanks for your input. I’ll take it under advisement.” But when you hear similar statements from more than two people? It’s a bit hard to dismiss what they’re saying. Therefore, it appears that I’m not so good with the texting. Which is odd. Everything’s fine by me. Sure, I appear to be having an entirely different conversation than the person on the other end. But at least it’s a sociable event. And I think it’s nice to have that quality time. Maybe no progress is being made, if there’s progress to be made. But whatever. I don’t often have an agenda when I’m texting people. It’s more of a “Hello.” Or as verbose, random and rambling as I tend to be, it’s more of a “Hello. How are you doing today? I’m fine. I saw a turtle on my walk today. It was walking. The turtle, that is. Slowly. The turtle was walking slowly. I was walking fast. I think I’ll have some watermelon. Did you see Focus? I love Will Smith. That man is all kinds of hot. It’s probably time for a browser cleanse since I can’t find that juicing article I bookmarked anywhere. Do you find cheese to be a weird food? What I mean is that sometimes you feel fine after eating it, and sometimes you just feel like you want to launch a grenade at your stomach and be done with the whole thing?” Yeah. That’s a mess for anyone to attempt to untangle. And that’s about what it’s like. It’s actually worse, if I’m honest. Matthew says that I’m famous for starting a conversation in mid-stream leaving him completely in the dark as to what I’m talking about. For example, when we received our tickets to the DMB concert, I texted Matthew to let him know that we were all set. Except it was more like I texted him to tell him this long story about my interaction with the FedEx guy and his opinions about DMB and concerts in general. And the text conversation started like this: “Knock on the door. When I opened the door, I couldn’t help myself and I said, “Yay, our DMB tickets.” And he said, “Yeah, you never hear about them anymore. They’re not popular anymore.” Somebody’s a sourpuss, huh? 😏” Matthew was like, “Whuh?” Because, context, and end result = DMB tickets? But I was more interested in telling my story about the conversation that the FedEx fellow and I shared than in actually sharing any useful information. And I know this to be true in other interactions as well, since I’ve heard this from other people, too. I have no idea why I do this, but I’m helpless to stop it. I do it on the phone as well. People call me. I answer the phone with some sort of sentence that NEVER begins with the polite and customary Hello that people expect. It’s typically an enthusiastic launch into a topic of my choosing which is unfortunate for the person who has called me with their own topic already in mind. And they can’t really derail me to address the topic they’ve already picked for discussion as I’m almost manic with purpose. It’s bound to feel rude to squelch that kind of enthusiasm. I think I’m already an eccentric old person. And I’m not old enough to be eccentric. Wait. When does eccentricity hit anyway?

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