Bat shit crazy? Perhaps.

Call me crazy if you must. I think the clinical psychologist in my life might agree with you.
Although I always get really annoyed when he tries to diagnose me because the crazy in me prefers to exist without being labelled or judged. Insanity deserves that much dignity at least.

The reason I feel even crazier than usual is that once again I have begun talking
(not muttering, there is a difference)
to myself.

Now this is not new to me. I have talked to myself for years, and I get it from my momma - she actually has countless conversations going on inside her head at any given time. You know they say that crazy is genetic.....

It just seems strange to me because this trait only manifests itself when I spend enormous amounts of time alone and as a consequence spend entirely too much time in my head.

This can be problematic as I begin talking to myself, inanimate objects and the moon.
Today my toothbrush got a diatribe about how much I love Lady Gaga.

When I was in Ireland the moon and I were a bit of an item and as such he was required to listen to my one sided rants on my walk to work every morning.

I don't know if its just the need to hear something said out loud and not just think it in my head, or the more likely scenario is I am just a few weeks away from full fledged bag lady style madness.

If it does come to that it will be entirely my own fault. I know there are tons of you out there who would be happy to talk to me, however my hatred of phone call conversations precludes such long distance interactions. There is nothing I love more than catching up face to face and there is so much that cannot be expressed in a phone call.

This has been a point of contention basically my entire adult life with matronly figures (cough) expressing their dissatisfaction with my lack of telephone calls and now far away friends and boyfriend being equally displeased, although they express it using much less guilt.

So I could have actual real life people to talk to that actually talk back but for some reason I pick my shampoo bottle, my bunny and random people on the radio to hold conversations with.

This is why I am crazy.
I feel like that is a pretty accurate diagnosis and we are just going to leave it at that.