There is a tiny person living inside my head. I think she’s set up residence somewhere in my cerebrum. She’s found a nice smushy place to put her feet up, drive my car, and make me eat bread. I’ll tell you something else, she’s nuts.
All the time I have to hush her and the crazy things she wants me to do. “Open your window and throw a donut at that car!” she calls out as I hurdle 75mph down the 405. (with no donuts in the car I might add) “Run as fast as you can and ram that guy’s cart with your cart, demolition derby style.” she urges while I’m shopping at the snooty Whole Foods in Beverly Hills. “Sara!” she practically screams. “Sam is totally asleep. You could shave his head, post pictures of him on the internet, and be on a plane to China before he even wakes up!” If it’s not one thing, it’s another. She’s like my own personal devil always coaxing me to do something wild and irresponsible. And the worst part is, she’s very convincing.
I picture her as a strange amalgamation of Lucille Ball and Diane Keaton. She is quirky and neurotic and obsessed with death. I can’t tell you the number of times she’s tried to convince me to kill someone for no reason. Or ram someone. (she’s big into ramming) Or stick out my tongue and make that pbsthhh noise in a situation when I’m supposed to be mature and silent.
All I know is, I think she’s winning. I’ve got a donut toss set up in the backyard and I’m getting pretty good at it.
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