Once upon a time I went crazy. (Not really, this is just a fantasy of mine.) I think it might have been the kids that finally tipped me into loopyville, or it could have been my husband's fault, or maybe it was just a general lack in fiber that did it. I'm not sure. (Especially since this never actually happened.) In the height of my crazy I was out of control. Charles Darwin might say that I lost millions of years of evolution in a matter of moments. Carl Jung might say that I was drawing on the collective conscious of primitive man. Jane Goodall might say that I was positively behaving ape-like. And the neighbors might say that I was sitting on top of my roof wearing nothing but Hello Kitty underwear and a rain poncho flinging poop at passersby while swearing like a sailor. (Maybe this can be a "choose your own adventure" type post, so you get to pick with theory you'd like to go with.) (In this fantasy) EMTs arrived on the sce...
no, I'm not vain - I think I just need more attention.