Nighttime and a consistent lack of sleep is my personal cocktail for craziness. Irrational, weird, deep thinking craziness that you can completely understand at 3 AM, but in the morning is half forgotten and wholly embarrassing.
Rocking my babies in the night gives me quiet time to let my brain roam, and roam it does. Sometimes during it’s half asleep saunters, my brain stumbles upon worries. I worry about things like cookies bursting into flames if I overheat the oven, or Gus taking a picture of me naked and posting it on Instagram. I become concerned about 50 Cent’s recent bankruptcy. I worry about the types of infections I could get from a nail salon. I stress over what I would do in an emergency if I didn’t have clothes on and had to leave the house quickly.
Or, I shop. Sometimes my brain just says I have to.
With that in mind, I guess it’s pretty stupid of me to be surprised when packages like this arrive. I only half remember ordering this particular item, and I am a little confused why I addressed it to Brian.
At least I can direct my worries away from the cookie inferno fixation.