Hysterically Cursing

Things have been running fairly smoothly over here.  Of course, there have been the usual sorts of ups 'n downs that occur in a household run by a somewhat absent minded Sheepie...but nothing too horrific.  I guess that's why we haven't seen much of Hysterical Mind and Rational Mind of late.  There just hasn't been a need for them.  I only resort to allowing my brain to separate into these two diametrically opposed operators when things go haywire.  They are a last resort.  They make me tired.

Today, though, the brain has wrenched itself in half.  Hysterical Mind has broken free from the bonds of Rational Thought and there is just no stopping her.  She needs to have her say.  I'm just going to let her run with it and wait until she tires herself out.  Let's see what has her so distraught today:

We enter the scene to see Hysterical Mind in the middle of the living room.  She is wearing her usual Sunday attire of sweat pants and what might or might not be a clean t-shirt.  Over these pedestrian garments, she is wearing a skirt fashioned from a belt with strips of newspaper stuck into it.  On her head, she boasts a headdress of similar construction.  Her face is painted with oddly shaped swoops and swirls in some dark substance and she is enthusiastically shaking a milk carton which appears to have been partially filled with objects designed to rattle.  She is chanting, but not in a language known to any inhabitant of this earth.  Rational Mind, alerted to the possibility of a problem by the rattling and chanting, stalks into the room in short order.

Rational Mind:  What on earth?  Hey!!  Is that today's paper?  I haven't read that yet...

Hysterical Mind:  Sorry.  Sacrifices must be made in these dark days.  Had to be done.

RM:  When did we enter into "dark days?"  Did I miss a memo?

HM:  Where have you been?  Things have gone to heck in a handbasket and, frankly, I blame you!  (glares menacingly and meaningfully in HM's general direction then resumes chanting)

RM:  I beg your pardon?  What the heck did I do?  I don't think I...oh, my dear God!  What is that smell????

HM:  I think it might be the milk carton.  When I dumped out the milk to make my official and highly mystical rattle, a lot of chunky stuff came out.  It seems that we are pretty good about buying the milk, but maybe a little less committed to actually drinking it...

RM:  (sounding slightly nasal as she is holding her nostrils together tightly)  I'll make a note.  Meanwhile, I don't quite think that's what I'm smelling.  It's coming from the carpet...ACK!  Is that...?

HM:  That is so totally not my fault!  The book said I needed chicken bones but you keep making us buy those boneless chicken breasts without the skin so I had to improvise.

RM:  I don't think I want to know...and yet I find myself compelled to ask:  How exactly did you "improvise?"

HM:  I stuck some Popsicle sticks into the chicken and then tossed them on the floor like the book said.  If you squint and don't look too closely, it kind of looks like they have little legs...

RM:  Coloring in those little shoes with the magic marker really helps with the illusion, I must admit.

HM:  (beaming proudly)  Thanks!  But, don't think that lets you off the hook.  I've had to spend the better part of the day trying to appease the Dark Forces and it is all your fault.  I had other stuff to do today, you know.  Lots of stuff...like napping and counting the ibuprofen tablets to make sure we have enough if there is a sudden, unexpected quarantine.  But noooooo...instead I have to use my valuable time perusing this dark and mysterious tome in order that we might be saved from a horrible fate!

RM:  Lemme see that.  (grabs a brightly colored paperback from HM's hands)  "Curse Breaking For Dummies?"  When did we get this?  And how did you manage to buy it without my knowing?

HM:  I had a gift certificate.  And be careful with that!  I told you...it is a dark and mysterious tome!  

RM:  It's a paperback...

HM:  It's a tome!  A tome!  A tome!!!!!

RM:  Fine...it's a tome.  Now will you settle down and tell me why you needed to consult this "tome?"  

HM:  Well, it's because of the stupid Blog Sweater Curse that you won't have the sense to be scared of.  You make all these jokes about dishcloths and stuff and keep thinking that you are so ding-dong funny.  Well look where it got us!  Just look!!!

RM:  It's not that bad.  It's just a setback, is all.  I really don't see how...

HM:  Setback?  Puh-leeeeez!  We've been cursed mightily.  You mock the curse and now look at us!  We're all smitten!

RM:  Smitten?

HM:  Past participle of smite.  It's like bite=bitten.  Smite=smitten.  You gotta be careful with those irregular verbs.  But I powered through.

RM:  You are a master of conjugation.  Now, tell me more about how we got all "smitten."

HM:  I can't believe you aren't seeing the issues.  First, there is the size!  Once we got the thing off the one circular and onto two, it grew!  It is going to take over the living room any minute now if I don't do something!

RM:  Now wait a minute...it was your idea to make it big.  You said that you'd rather have a sweater that was too big and made you feel skinny instead of a little one because that might cause what you called, "The Spiral Of Despair."

HM:  I don't recall that.  You must be mistaken.  And then there were the dropped stitches.  Did you see all those dropped stitches???

RM:  I'll admit that trying it on after we got it onto the two circs was something of a judgement error.  But it did look kind of big.  I just wanted to see what the deal was, that's all.  And besides, I found all the dropped stitches and took care of them.  All you did was shriek and say bad words.  That wasn't helpful.

HM:  I am who I am.  I can't change that.  But, we are straying from the point here.  You are not taking this Blog Sweater Curse seriously and have forced me to take matters into my own hands.  I've got my tome and all the directions for driving the evil forces from our home.  You just go away and be all "rational."  I'll take care of it.  

RM:  I still think you are being ridiculous.  But, as there is obviously no stopping this, I'll just go meditate like I always do when you lose it.  Before I do, though, I have to know.  What the heck is all over your face?

HM:  Chocolate pudding.  I needed to paint on some magical, mystical symbols to protect me from the evil.  I couldn't find the stuff the book said to use, but I figured this would work OK and then I could eat it.  I hate to be wasteful.   Don't worry, though.  I got this fresh from the store this morning.  I didn't want to use the stuff from the fridge after seeing what happened with the milk.  We really do have a wicked dairy situation going on in there.

RM:  Again, I'll make a note.  Carry on.  Call me when you're done.  We'll have some pudding.  It'll be nice.

HM:  (resumes whirling and chanting whilst shaking the stinky milk carton rattle)  'Kay.  See you then.  I'm just about done here.  Shouldn't be more than an hour.  Two if the chicken bone thing doesn't work out like I'd planned.

RM:  That's nice.

As is my wont, I'll just let them deal with it in their own way.  I still maintain that calling the project a "dishcloth" rather than admitting it is a sweater of some sort has really helped with keeping the dreaded Blog Sweater Curse at bay for as long as I have.  If Hysterical Mind wants to add a little chanting and stinky chicken bones to the mix, I don't suppose it will hurt.  

But she's gonna have to clean the carpet.  That's all I have to say...

SA