I'm losing my mind...

School's out for summer. Yup, tomorrow is the last day of school for my kids! No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks. And I am oh so thankful, as it couldn't have come at a better time...

On two separate occasions today I found myself alone in my house, as I usually am on a random Monday morning, talking out loud. To myself. And no one heard at all. Not even the chair. Seriously, Neil Diamond can get away with this crap, but for me, it's rather alarming.

I was toasting an english muffin, as I usually do on a random Monday morning, but this time I had let it go too long. First glance of the nooks and crannies lead me to believe that it might be ok, but upon closer examination I saw that the muffin was far too charred for my liking. And that's when I heard myself say, "Nope, this thing is not going to cut it." 

I'm not talking heard as in my head heard it, but rather heard as in my ears heard it. And it startled me. Because, exactly who did I think I was talking to? I furrowed my brow in disbelief and thought, but did not say out loud, "Did I just say that out loud?" Hmm. I threw away the blackened muffin and toasted another and didn't give it another thought. 

Until, that is, it happened again.  

A few hours later I was folding laundry, as I usually do on a random Monday morning, when I noticed that I was missing a sock. If I had a dime for every sock that didn't make it out of the dryer alive, I'd be rich, so it came as no surprise. But what did surprise me was that I asked myself OUT LOUD where the sock might be. What the?

It was as if I thought I was talking to the Borrowers. "Um, excuse me, tiny person, did you borrow one of my son's new socks? Cause he'll have a freaking cow if that thing goes missing." No, I'm exaggerating, it wasn't that bad. It wasn't as if I was carrying on a conversation with Mrs. Borrower, I simply said a few words out loud (to no one there. And no one heard at all. Not even the chair.) "Where is that other sock?" And this time...it scared the hell out of me. I have NEVER thought out loud before, so for it to happen to me TWICE in one day is, well, a bit unnerving, to say the least. 

What if I slip up and start sharing some of my other thoughts out loud? Thoughts that have no business being shared out loud? That could be ugly. Do you think I'm starting to lose my filter? Everybody is born with a filter and eventually, over time, it starts to wear away. And when it's gone, or almost gone, old people are left filterless and spew stuff that they would never have said in their younger years. But this happens to old people, not people in their 40's. Forty is the new 20, for god's sakes. I should have another 20 years or so before the filter starts showing signs of aging. No?

Perhaps I'm in the early stages, and my filter is short circuiting. How else do you explain it? I can assure you, I'm not talking to myself out of loneliness. I cherish the time I spend in my house alone. All by myself. I love the peace and quiet. In fact, I rarely, if ever, have the TV on or play music when I'm alone with my household chores. So, why did I feel the need to break the silence today? Not once, but twice? It's got to be that my filter is starting to wear out. Wrinkles, thickening of my core, varicose veins, and now the wearing of my filter. Time is not on my side. No it's not. Just as I am not responsible for the bulging veins in my legs, I cannot be held accountable for what spews from my mouth. 

I think it's best that my kids finish up at school and hang out with me this summer while I'm toasting my Thomas' English muffins and folding the laundry. That way if I start thinking out loud, I can pretend that I'm talking to them. And not the chair.

Sex and the City

Yes, I contributed to the $55.7 million opening of Sex and the City this weekend. And I thoroughly enjoyed it. What's not to enjoy? 

I heard it didn't get great reviews in my hometown paper or in some of the New York papers, but those critics got it wrong. I understand the naysayers said it was pointless and plotless, but I beg to differ. If you were a fan of the show, I guarantee you will be a fan of the movie. 

I was listening to a radio show on Friday where men were calling in with excuses they were planning to use to get out of seeing the movie with their wives or girlfriends. Riddle me this: what woman would drag a man to see this movie? Despite what the critics might say, it's not about Manolo Blahniks or Jimmy Choos or designer dresses or sex, it's about girlfriends and the friendships they share. So it makes sense that this movie is best shared with a girlfriend, not a husband or boyfriend. Especially a husband or boyfriend who doesn't want to see the movie. So please, leave the unwilling man at home and free up the seat for an appreciative female viewer. 

No, it's not going to win any awards. And yes, it was predictable. And I'll give it to you that it painted an unreal, dreamlike picture of NYC. And, yes, of course, the product placement was almost comical. But I bought it all, hook, line and sinker. I'm sure some will say it seemed like a long drawn out episode of Sex and the City, but that's alright by me. When I watched the series on HBO, every episode left me wanting more. The movie had the same effect; I could have watched the girls for a few more hours and still not have grown weary.

I am tempted to comment on a few details and share some of my favorite lines from the movie, but I don't want to give anything away for those of you who didn't make it to the blockbuster grand opening weekend. But do yourselves a favor, ladies, call a girlfriend or two and go see the show. One of my girlfriends smuggled in a bottle of Proseco and some chocolate to add to our viewing pleasure. Plan on making a night of it and going out for a Cosmopolitan and some sushi afterwards. And remember, leave the whiney men at home, they are so not worthy. This movie is best shared with your BFF (I wonder if Gayle and Oprah have seen it yet?)