because I really can't get enough of myself

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 scene, and dodge poop whi