I Need a Brain Washing

This morning, my brain decided to slither out me ear and go on a pre-dawn jaunt.

At least, I think that's what happened. I can't be sure. I'm just sort of working this all out, typing out loud, so to speak.

It slipped and slopped about the bedroom, leaving a glistening goo trail from my pillow across the bed clothes and down onto the floor, across the rug, and up onto my dresser. It seemed to malinger a while around the humidifier, judging by the thickness of the slug-like ooze thereabouts, then -- perhaps harangued by one of our cats -- into the bathroom. Lizzie, most likely, since she's the hunter of the pair. Tuco probably just watched, while Lizzie did all the hard work.

It looks like my brain tried to pushed the door shut, though we didn't hear a thing. Well, I mean, Marge didn't. I couldn't have, really, with my brain out and about on its own, now, could I? I reckon not.

So, anyhoot, it looks from all the scuffle evidence I've stumbled about finding with the dawn light, that either my brain made a mad -- well, as mad a dash as a brain-and-spinal-column-caterpiller-move can be a 'mad dash' -- to the other downstairs bathroom, and ended up in the catbox. Brains being such sticky things, it appears clumps of litter clung to me brain as it thrashed about, no doubt worried by the cat or cats, since the curtains are also spattered with goo and what appears to be a blue-tinged sampling of blood, and are down on the floor, splayed around the toilet and catbox.

It then looks like my cat-litter-gunked-up brain made its way rather clumsily to the kitchen, where the basket was overturned and the first open box of Girl Scout Cookies (mint) have been raided. I know that was what my brain thought it was doing, 'cause I know my brain and Girl Scout Cookies. I have no idea what my brain thought it could ingest -- I mean, sans jaws, mouth and esophagus, it just looks like it managed to sort of roll a cellophane tube of mints out of the box, mash it about and sort of grind some of the mint crumbs in with the gobbets of kitty litter, lint and dustbunnies already stuck to it, but I reckon it derived some sensation or satisfaction from the exercise. I do feel a bit minty-fresh between my sinuses, and am craving a mint cookie just now.

It also looks like my brain sat in the sink a bit, judging by the mess. Mayhaps my brain pulsed in the stainless-steel sink long enough for the cat or cats to get bored and leave it the hell alone -- I don't know.

Mind you, I can't recall any of this, really. I'm just trying to puzzle out what might have happened.

So, at some point, since I'm now awake and about, my brain must have returned to my pillow and made its way back into my skull via the ear canal. That would explain why there's clumps of mint cookie, damp dust clots, slimy strings of cat-litter infused ichor and a wet bit of cat shit and toilet paper crammed into my left ear this morning. It's really disgusting, and my head is throbbing like it was pounded with a brick. It also looks a bit like some pond-dwelling amphibian crapped on my pillow, right by my ear.

But I am also strangely euphoric and gleeful this morning, as if I'd taken my inner child for a walk or something. I await the day's offerings with excitement and as if reawakened from a long, suffocating slumber.

Lizzie just keeps staring at me, but not looking me in the eyes, sort of staring off to my left, just above my shoulder, and licking her fuzzy little lips and purring and purring and purring...

Have a Freaky Friday...