My Random Thoughts While Getting Blown

I was in the middle of getting blown last night when I had a number of random thoughts. This doesn’t always happen when I’m being blown, but it occasionally can. When it does, it makes me laugh.

Laughing when you’re getting blown isn’t something most people do. I have to think that most are thinking about the task at hand. They’re observing the moment, taking it all in. It can be infrequent, but it’s a cool thing when it happens.

So what was I thinking about while I was being blown? Well, a number of things, actually.

The first thing I thought of was that I was hungry. I definitely started considering what I could make for a snack after this was over. I got excited. After all, this was only going to take a few minutes. I started picturing what I had in my kitchen and it filled me with glee.

That’s when the thoughts just became completely random. I started wondering who would win in a fight, a small cat or a larger squirrel. A large squirrel usually has a lot of nuts. This could bode well in a fight with a cat, who’s nothing more than a pussy.

This humorous thought made me chuckle to myself. Shit, I almost forgot I was being blown. I need to focus. Laughing when something like this is going on might be considered odd behavior. But I’ve always been this way.

I started thinking about how long I’d been having random, weird thoughts. Damn, I can remember all the way back to grade school. I used to sit through my dad’s boring sermons and church and think about anything and everything other than religion.

I’d picture armed gunmen busting into the service to murder us all. Back then, this was a really weird thing to imagine. Not so much now, 40 years later. Most mass shootings take place in schools and churches. Sad, but true.

I’d plot my escape, noting where all exits from the sanctuary were located. I’d army crawl between pews and be the fuck out of the door before someone could yell, “Praise the Lord!”

These odd random thoughts followed me to school. I’d sit in class after getting my assignments or tests quickly completed, waiting for the rest of the class to finish theirs. I was a smart kid, so I finished well before most others. This afforded me the chance to sit quietly and think weird thoughts.

I remember stressing myself out terribly once. I had some random thought about the cute little blonde girl I sat next to, Laurie. I remember suddenly becoming quite worried about the following scenario.

“What if I couldn’t stop myself from telling her that I LIKED her?”

Again, this made zero sense. What, was I going to be possessed by Cupid, Aphrodite, or some other love-related figure who would suddenly force me to profess my third-grade love to my crush? I still to this day have no idea why I caused myself to have a panic attack in the middle of math class over this.

And what’s the worst that would have happened, even if this did occur? Laurie would like me back? Or ask to be moved to the other side of the classroom, to avoid an 8-year-old creeper with Bouncin’ and Behavin’ Hair? Egads. Now I get why I was so worried.

The Love Story of 1982 was not to be. I had been worried for nothing. I started to realize that overthinking random stuff would not lead to child marriage. Laurie was safe from a four-foot-two Italian kid with a growing nose.

Another random thought while being blown last night: I wonder what people’s dogs’ names are when I see them out and about. I often walk by people with dogs or see them when driving. I realized a while ago that I find myself wondering what the dog’s name is.

Spot? Henry? Old Shep? Lenny Kravitz? It could be ANYTHING.

So do I care enough to ask? Obviously, I’m not going to lean out of my car window while driving and yell, “WHAT’SYOURDOG’SNAME?!?!” That could be viewed as being borderline psychotic. So then I started deciding that I’ll just name them whatever they look like, to me.

You can see how overthinking random stuff while I’m getting blown can cause problems. I should be focusing on other things. I need to pay better attention to my surroundings. I owe it to my girl.

So I decided it was time for a change. I was quickly getting tired of being blown. Yeah, I said it. It was cold. The wind had picked up considerably in the time we’d been outside. Libby was getting fatigued on this long walk we were on. My brain was starting to hurt from all of the thinking I’d been doing outside in the wind.

So I waved goodbye to Lenny Kravitz, the dog across the street. I watched the squirrel with a lot of nuts chase off the cat, then army-crawled with Libby under some bushes back to our yard, and looked Laurie up on Facebook.

Hey, I had to get her permission before writing this about her. It’s always advisable to use good manners after you’ve just gotten blown. &:^)