Two Steps Away from Crazy Town

When I was younger, my parents hated taking me to restaurants. 

See back then, we only ate out when we were on vacation. And back then, when we were on vacation we only ate one time a day. 

(That's how I remember it anyway.)

So, by the time we got to the restaurant my blood sugar was low, real low--i.e. I was tired, grumpy, and nothing on the menu sounded even a little edible. 

That's when I would fold my arms, hold my breath until my face turned red, and pout in the corner until my mom said something like:

"Alec you really need to eat something."

I would respond, like an actress giving a well-rehearsed monologue, "I would rather die of starvation than eat anything in this restaurant."

An hour later, after the waitress had come by 3 times to ask my family what we wanted, I would eeny-meeny-miny-moe my way through the menu, and end up choosing a club sandwich with lemonade. Every time, without fail.

Five sips of lemonade later I stopped pouting in the corner, stopped ignoring my sister who wanted to borrow the green crayon and even started breathing again. 

I feel like my eight year old self again. 

Metaphorically speaking, my blood sugar is really freaking low. 

I have so much laundry that after two days of working on it, I'm still not done. I keep thinking I'm done with school projects, but then I remember that one last paper. And, my to-do list is so long I can't even fit it on my white board. 

I'm about two-steps away from folding my arms, finding a corner, and holding my breath until my face turns red. 

I know that as soon as I sit down and eeny-meeny-miny-moe my way through the projects, I'm going be a lot better.  But right now, making my face turn red really feels like the best option. 

Maybe instead, I'll go make some lemonade.