I'm feeling out-of-sorts and I really shouldn't be in this frame of mind.
My kids are safe, asleep in bed. The Ty-man is slurping on sherbert and watching 24. Andy is in the chair next to me. All is well and calm.
But I'm not and I don't really know why.
I'm jumpy and paranoid that I'm forgetting something. Something big.
But the only thing coming up on the calendar is the annual Georgia Academic Decathlon competition. For which I'm ready. My speech judging materials are in order and my slide show is A-OK.
I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop knowing there's nobody around taking off any sort of shoes, attempting to stink up the joint with their nasty foot odor.
Don't you hate this feeling? This I-feel-like-I've-had-10-cups-of-coffee-and-my-skin-is-going-to-jump-off-my-body feeling that has no basis in fact. And I can't shake it except to go upstairs, put on an episode of Starsky & Hutch (I'm up to episode 10 from the first season) and gently drift into dreamland as Paul Michael Glaser and David Soul solve another mystery with the help of Antonio Fargas.
I guess I just need to live life like my Andy.
Sleep a lot and be calm.
Except when you inadvertently walk into the garage, a place you've never been, a place that is jumbled and scary, all whilst Mama is unloading the groceries. Then, you can freak out.*
* Yeah. Curiosity may not kill the cat, but it certainly does freak our little Andy out from time to time.