I talk to myself on an almost daily basis. I would really like to think that I’m not crazy but, well, there’s only so many conversations I can have with myself before I start questioning my own sanity.
This morning, Jack went to work before me. When my alarm went off, this is how my monologue went:
“Suppose I’d better get up. Man, I’m so warm and snuggly. Is snuggly even a word? Snuggly. Snugg-ly. Hmm. Jane, you’re talking to yourself. I think you need a holiday.”
Really Joker? REALLY?
Then of course, there was my fight with the toaster. The toaster burned my toast cause the toaster is a d**k.
“Ugh, why can’t you be a regular toaster? Why do you have to be all ‘ooh, I’m a hot toaster’ and incinerate everything?!”
I realised my cat was looking at me, possibly thinking Um, human, there doesn’t seem to be another human around sooo…. who the hell are you talking to?
Of course, I don’t talk to myself all the time. I’m not a total weirdo. Right? RIGHT?
I just find myself thinking aloud, I suppose. I also have arguments with household appliances, which I almost always win.
The way I look at it, if Hamlet could talk to himself, then so can I. I mean, he turned out fine. Ahem.
So I’m going to put it to you, lovely readers. Do you talk to yourself? Or am I even more insane than I thought? Am I going to wake up to my cat saying this in the morning?