I think my fingers are having a stroke…

Or… I’m being possessed by the spirits of homophones past.  Instead of the word ‘do’ I type ‘due.’ Instead of ‘red’ I type ‘read.’   I actually typed ‘aisle’ instead of ‘I’ll’ this morning.

So?  Any thoughts?  Any closet neurologists out there?  ‘Cause right now?  I think I might be in a cross between Memento, Primer & Inception, my mind’s feeling THAT fucked.  It’s not like they’re just typos.  Is this where all those brain injuries I’ve had through my life are coming back to haunt me?  I really should have had that brain MRI a loooooong time ago.

Does anyone else do this sort of stuff?  And before you suggest it – I don’t use auto-spelling. I don’t do text speak.  EVER.  That’s not what’s happening here.   I spell out my words – I never even type “laugh out loud” let alone the … the… acronym for it.  (Just can’t do it – would rather drive a frickin’ nail through my eye.) I usually write “hee hee hee” to indicate I’m giggling or “HAH!” to indicate a guffaw of laughter.  And just to really screw me over this morning, it took me a full 30 seconds to come up with the word ‘acronym’ just then.  BANJO!  Just checking.  I don’t use “8” for the ‘ate’ sound.  So WHAT.  THE.  POOH. 

Last night, I was trying to explain the misplacing my homophones thing to David.  I then spelled the wilderness mammal BEAR as B A R E.  And that was NOT my intention.

“You just spelled B A R E.”

“No I didn’t!”

“You totally did!”

“Oh God, that’s it.  I’m having a stroke right now.  Or I’ve had a stroke and I’ve lost all my homophones.  Is my mouth drooping?”

“No, your mouth isn’t drooping.  Why would you only lose homophones?”

“It’s not just homophones – I lost BANJO the other day, and… and… I lost – SWEET MOTHER OF ALL THESAURUSES…  What else did I lose?”

“I don’t know sweetie.”

“You see?  OH GOD.  You could totally Gaslight me!!!  If you wanted, you could totally  Gaslight me.  I think I’m losing my mind anyway – so how would I even know?”  I back away from him in the bed, my eyes wild and wide.

“Good thing I’m not independently wealthy.  All you could get would be some crazily bad lounge music and a plethora of holiday decorations with a side of vintage dresses.  Maybe it’s the dresses you’re after!!!”

He shoots me a look of utter disbelief.

“Although frankly your back is much wider than mine and you’d have to have them altered.  No, not possible.  The amount of body hair that you’d have to shave/wax would deter that.  You don’t even like it when I pluck your shoulder hair.”

“Shhhh…. It’s okay…”  He tucks me into his side and kisses me on the forehead.

“It’s NOT okay.  I’m having weird-ass aphasia!”

“Sweetie if you didn’t remember the word ‘aphasia’ then I’d be worried.  I think you’re good.”

“Due ewe reely mien it?”