litterbug

Today I was sitting outside eating my lunch, drinking my Dr. Pepper (a category unto itself), and reading by the fountains outside the MU like I always do. Just a typical day...or so I thought.

When I finished drinking my 32 ounces of Dr. Pepper (hey...he is a doctor, for crying out loud!), I threw my cup into the grass. Now hold on...please stop judging me. I was not throwing it into the grass to litter. I am not a litterbug. I threw it on the ground simply because sometimes it's windy outside, and the wind has a tendency to want to blow my trash into the fountain. And that, my friends, would be littering by default. So I threw it on the ground so I could pick it up when I was done reading and throw it away.

When I was done reading I put my headphones in and picked some awesome music to listen to on the walk to work. Then I...yep, you guessed it...reached down to pick up the cup so I could throw it away...only to find a swarm of ants crawling around inside of it. My brain went into overdrive. This had never happened before! Before I even knew what I was doing, I threw my hands into the air and sent the cup [and my headphones and my ipod] flying. It took me a second to figure out what had happened. I looked down at the cup, headphones, and ipod lying in the grass and began to laugh. Finally I picked up my ipod, lest any ants should try to infiltrate it as well, and stared longingly at the cup. I wanted to throw it away, I really did. But in the end, I just couldn't get myself to pick up the millions of insects crawling around inside it. So I just left it there.

I know.

I am a litterbug.

I can only pray that Mother Nature [and the poor groundskeeper who has to pick up the cup] will forgive me.

Walking to work, I kept picturing myself throwing my hands into the air and sending projectiles flying. This resulted in my laughing a good deal during my walk. Which made me laugh even harder, because I kept getting really weird stares for laughing so spontaneously...by myself.

Oh, self. What am I going to do with you?

roxy

So I think it's time I finally introduced you to the newest love of my life. [And yes, I might have multiple loves-of-my-life simultaneously. I'm sure you understand.]

If you've already met her, I'm sure you consider yourself lucky.

If you haven't, meet Roxy. [Or, if you have already met her, please allow yourself some time to admire.]



[Just to avoid any confusion, let me clarify: the girl in the picture is me. Not Roxy. Me. Make sense? If you're reading this blog, you probably already knew that. If you're my best friend, and you're just figuring that out now, you're demoted. The car is Roxy. Okay. Just had to make sure.]

*Sigh* Isn't she beautiful?

When I first laid eyes on Roxy, I knew my life would never be the same. Even now, one-and-a-half weeks later, my feelings remain unchanged.

If you're confused as to why I am in love with this car, go back up and take a look at that picture again. Go ahead, right now. Now that you've done that, you're probably not confused anymore. But if there's any lingering confusion, let me just say: I have never owned a car in my twenty-one years of living. Sheesh, that's probably like a fourth of my life. So I've gone one-fourth of my life [give or take] without any wheels. My pioneer ancestors are probably shaking their heads at me in disbelief at this moment, but if you are from this century (which I hope you are, because if you aren't, that would be weird on so many levels), you understand.

Plus, in the one-and-a-half weeks that I've had her, we've gone many-a-place, had some delightful, in-depth, one-sided conversations, and jammed out to some pretty awesome tunes. She's a fantastic listener, let me tell you.

And the best part about it is, I think she loves me, too.



[Again, just as a refresher. Car: Roxy. Girl: me.]

Call me crazy.