True Confessions

I have a confession.

I talk to myself. It's not inner monologue. I have conversations with myself. Dialogue. I say something, and then I say something back. I discovered this when I got married. I would ask Dear Hubby a question and then answer it out loud, myself. I still do. He's been conditioned to ignore the insanity and answer the questions I'm actually asking of him.

I have another confession.

I day dream. Like a lot. I can watch T.V. but really, I'm just looking at it. I'm actually off in la-la land, thinking about things like what I would wear to a 1950's era cocktail party (a pink chiffon dress, of course). When I read a book, I really have to focus because one word can send me off on some weird tangent and before I know it I am climbing a mountain at lightning speed, thinking about the vikings.

So naturally, there's a good book in there somewhere, right?