Just about a year ago I felt very very crabby. I hated my job, and my job was all I ever did. It got to the point where I thought I might be eligible for one of those pills they advertise with people running through green fields on sunny blue sky days. I was indeed crabby. One day while searching for the newest Stephanie Plum novel at Barnes and Noble I decided to check out the Happy Books. Happy Books being the ones meant for crabby people such as myself who wanted to get out their funk. I found one, I cannot remember the exact title, but it had the phrase “party pants” in it and dammit I wanted some party pants. I don’t think I ever cracked it open. At that point I think I realized that I had to start doing things as opposed to reading about them.

I made a New Years resolution to go out. Yup. This 28 year-old was going to start leaving her home and job and venture into the world. Now you must assume that “the world” equals smoky bars that may or may not have pull tabs and karaoke. And it did.  Me and one of my co-workers kicked the resolution off my spending the night in the world’s diviest bar attached to a bowling alley.  And last winter I met 4651 people. Well, not that many, but compared to the year and a half previous to this it felt like a million.   One out of these million and I were having a conversation one day and I was trying to sound like I had goals beyond making sure there was enough milk in the fridge for the next day.  So, I told them I wanted to go to school.  Although it wasn’t a lie, I did want to go to school, I just never had actually though of doing it for real.  But I am.

So I made more decisions.  I also decided to buy Powerball tickets.  Although my sister says they are for people who cannot understand mathematics, my dad says it only costs a dollar to buy a dream.   I don’t know that I would make a splendid multi-millionaire, but I’d like to dream that I could have two houses in my two favorite cities in the country and spend each Thanksgiving at the Macy’s Parade.  And I would have a room in each house dedicated to storing toilet paper because it is one of those items that I hate buying and if I could just have it delivered once a year and fill up the room and go from there, not only could I not have to buy toilet paper while I am squeezing oranges at the grocery I would probaly never run out.

I also began keeping my car tank full, because if I am ever in the position to be able to get away I want to be able to go right away.  Stopping for gas would take all the beauty and poetry out of driving off into the whatever.  And you are not truly away until you cross a state line.  You need a full tanks of gas to do this.  Maybe this won’t work in Texas.  So, I am proclaiming now, “I shall never reside in Texas!”   Yeah, take that.  I totally messed with you Texas.