Me, Myself, and Aliens

IMG_0506It was a Saturday night. And for the first time in probably eight years, I was alone with nothing to do and it was GLORIOUS!

Before we get ahead of ourselves, let me provide a benchmark for what a “normal” Saturday evening entails.

My husband, my 2 love-nuggets, and I spend our entire Saturday going to dance class, running errands, cleaning the house (ok, my husband is usually attacking that first then I feel guilty and do stuff, too), maybe I get to sneak out for an hour or so to work on my fitness, dinner, family movie night.

All day I’m with someone. And I love it. Until I need a “me” break.

“But, E, don’t you get that at the gym?”  You may ask…

Not the same. What I’m talking about when I refer to a “me” break is a string of hours (no, not just one) where I can have my house to myself. I can leave the house if I want. But I don’t HAVE to. I can stay if I want. And binge on Netflix. And no one is there to say, “first we need to…” or “Mommy, I need…” or, my personal favorite, “Mommy, there’s poo…”

As someone who needs alone time to recharge and not hate people, taking time for myself is a big part of caring for my mental health. Since you’re reading this post and have presumably some knowledge of my inner thoughts you are well aware that this doesn’t happen often.

{B.T.Dubs, to those of you who have said I need medication after reading my posts, you are absolutely correct. But I don’t care. Because I’m crazy. And I like it. All creative people are crazy. You’re welcome.}

So what did the night bring me you ask?

I’m about to tell you. But don’t be jealous.

I dropped Bella off at her friends’ for a sleep over at 4:30. By 4:45 I was at the gym. I got in a 5mile elliptical thing in…

{I don’t know, do I consider it a run if it’s on the elliptical? I’m convinced that treadmills are evil living beings that aim to kill us off and take over the world so I don’t use them. I envision myself flying off the back then my long ponytail gets caught in the motor and I get scalped or even worse, my pants leg gets caught and I’m naked from the waist down and then everyone will know why I wear shorts over my running tights. #cameltoe  Speaking of, I’ve heard there’s a surgical procedure for that… ewe.}

Anyway, then I went to Smoothie King convinced that a Lean1 smoothie would be my dinner, went home, let my doggies out, turned on Unsealed: Alien Files, just to see if I’m at risk of being abducted any time soon.

{Turns out, as long as I’m not on Catalina Island I’m safe from the Praying Mantis alien species}

Of course the smoothie didn’t last and I soon found myself hungry for REAL food. The options were endless, really. I mean, it was just me! So I did what any lazy person does… I opened my freezer, took out the Tyson nugget bag and plopped about 10 of those bad boys on a cookie sheet.

But let’s go back to the main event of the night. “Unsealed: Alien Files” deserves some discussion time. Anyone watched one of these “alien” shows before? They’re fanTASTIC.

Here’s the jist of all of these alien shows: aliens are the cause of everything. Why are we smart? Aliens. Why do people disappear? Dam aliens. Why is the government secretive? Effin aliens. Who created the world? Probably those effin aliens. Is God an alien? Mayans? They’re aliens. All of ‘em. Native Americans? Golden children of the aliens. Worm holes? Scientifically speaking, they are portals for aliens.

Why do I watch these shows? BECAUSE THE INTERVIEWS ARE AMAZING! These people are self-proclaimed “UFO experts” otherwise known as “ufologists”. How does one become a “ufologist”? I plan on accomplishing whatever training is required to obtain the rights to use that credential.

Furthermore, the narrator. Does he believe what he is saying? I lean towards “yes” because he speaks with such conviction.

{He’s like the Mariah Carey of narrators. I mean, you BELIEVE because he MAKES you believe. With his commanding voice. I need him to come over and tell my kids that they WANT to clean their rooms.}

But then again, he could just be really good at his job and all the while he’s thinking, “Are these people serious?” I guess we’ll never know. Unless HE gets interviewed… I may work on that. Maybe start a podcast. Have a segment called “interview the narrator of crazy shat”.

Anyway, I watched it for so long that I’ve had to hit “continue watching” 3 times. That’s Netflix’s passive-aggressive way of saying, “You are officially binge watching and we think you need to actively select a button to continue watching so we make sure you’re alive. If not, we won’t bother streaming anymore.” I bet the person who created that feature is southern. No one does passive-aggressive like we do.

Slight tangent alert:

You think Tiger Moms are bad? Y’all, please. They ain’t got nuthin’ on southern moms. Helicopter Moms? Southern moms are their mentors. Ever heard of Catholic guilt? Guess who they learned it from? But that’s a different topic for a different day.

Any who…

My welcomed solitude ended around 10:30. From 4:30 to 10:30 was perfect. Just enough time to realize I was incomplete without my fam but glad I had time to spend with me. Cuz I’m pretty awesome… and so are YOU!

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