For some reason I can only write while listening to Coldplay, and it needs to be played REALLY LOUD. And I mean, REALLY LOUD, like, the kind of loud where you canâ€™t even hear the phone ring or your husband sneak up on you from behind. I think because all their songs sound the same they blend into the back room of my consciousness and drown out all the distractions in my head.
Currently Iâ€™m slightly buzzed on vodka and orange juice â€“ just enough to make my lips numb and to make Coldplay sound REALLY GOOD. Sometimes I think I would make a great alcoholic because Iâ€™m a nicer person when Iâ€™m buzzed. I was just reading about the Comfort Zone of toddlers in The Girlfriendâ€™s Guide to Toddlers â€“ things like blankies, binkies, and thumb sucking â€“ and I thought to myself, What if my Comfort Zone was a strong margarita? Would that be socially acceptable?
What if, when playground politics stressed me out or I thought there were monsters under my bed, what if I chucked the blankie aside and poured myself a stiff one. It sure does comfort me, and isnâ€™t that the point?
The things that toddlers get away withâ€¦.