It could happen.

So, in between being on the internet too much and sleeping, I actually really do have a job. I work for a tissue bank and it’s a little unconventional and weird and as much as I’d love to tell you about it, I can’t. No lie – I actually had to sign a confidentiality agreement when they hired me…”the first rule of working for a tissue bank is you don’t talk about working for a tissue bank” and all of that.

Anyway, what I CAN tell you is that I’m on call a lot. 24 hours a day, 5-6 days a week. This is pretty cool, as it allows me to technically be working but at the same time, run around and do lots of other important things like paint and write and watch reality t.v. The downside is, there’s no rhyme or reason to when I’m going to be called in or where we are going to end up. Sometimes it’s 2 in the afternoon, sometimes it’s 2 in the morning…sometimes we stay in town, sometimes we travel out of state…on my birthday…in a snowstorm (I’m not bitter, I’m just sayin’…sometimes that happens…that's all). This sort of schedule means that I really don’t have a schedule at all. I go to sleep when I’m tired and I wake up when I feel like waking up or when the phone rings or when my cat gets a hold of some bad weed and tries to claw my face off.

Which brings me to the whole “updated daily” part of this blog. Updating daily is pretty easy when I don’t get called into work…updating daily super sucks when I fall asleep at 3 a.m, get called in at 4 a.m, spend 6 hours in the fetal position trying to get some sleep in a van where nobody but me thinks that 97 degrees is just a trifle warm, and spend another 6 hours working in the world’s smallest operating room doing matrix like moves so as not to contaminate anything. By the time I’m driving home, my body hurts, I’m sleepy, and my thought patterns probably rival that of a 65 pound girl that just drank six shots of tequila on an empty stomach.

This was the case the other day. I was driving home and thinking about what I was going to write when I got distracted by a garbage bag on the side of the road. My first thought was, “Hey! Somebody littered…on the side of the road…with GARBAGE,” (because that’s how I think when I’m all sleepy and stuff – like a drunk ten year old.) My second thought was, “oh man…I hope there weren’t puppies in that garbage bag.”

I could not let go of this thought.

I used to actually pull over and check garbage bags on the side of the road just to be SURE that there were no puppies…I quit doing that when I realized that despite my good Samaritan efforts to rescue abandoned puppies, I was really only rescuing dirty socks and moldy t.v. dinners and nearly causing several traffic accidents in the process. However, sleepy me doesn’t care about what might have happened in the past…sleepy me only wants to obsess for hours about whether or not there were puppies in a garbage bag thrown on the side of the road. Sleepy me wants to know whether or not this is a concern for other people...like, do other people pull over to the side of the road and open up every bag of garbage that they see to check for puppies? And if not, WHY? If they don’t, do they feel guilty about it for days later? Do they lie awake in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince themselves that they’re not somehow an accomplice to puppy killers? Sleepy me even starts to write a blog about puppies in garbage bags, complete with pictures of sad puppies and references to Sarah Mclachlan songs and I'm actually playing that one Sarah Mclachlan song about being in the arms of the angels while I'm writing and my eyes are getting all watery and I'm sniffling and I have my dogs all gathered close to me so that I know that they're safe and I'm just starting to full out bawl my head off...

... when James walks in and looks at me like I’m a crazy person…which at that moment, I was...

Which is why I scrapped that whole idea and ended up posting a youtube video of tights-tug-of-war.

So, I’m now changing the Hey Lola mantra of “updated daily” to “updated daily unless I’m a crazy sleepy person who can only write about really depressing things while appearing to be 3 sheets to the wind.”

You’ll thank me for this someday….