Bump on a Wheel

Sometimes in my happy little life I forget something about myself. Little things can eat me up. (Let alone the big things.)

I remember hearing an analogy (quite a few times for some strange reason) when I was younger about how men are compartmentalizers - they divide their thoughts/emotions/lives into little compartments and can put something in one and not worry about it until they visit it again. But women are like a big wheel that keeps turning. (Cannot remember the general term they used for it.) They put stuff on the edge of their wheel and as their wheel rolls along, they keep going over the same bump, over and over -- having a difficult time "putting things away".

This analogy used to bother me a little. I like the idea of compartment living (plus I love 'compartments' and organizing) and thought I was bigger than the 'bump on a wheel' theory.

I am not. I am SO not.

Give me a little piece of something and I'll stick it on my wheel and roll over it till I beat it to death. Okay, that's a little bit of an exaggeration - I just keep rolling over it until I forget about it. My poor memory is what makes it so easy to move on (of course, AFTER I forget) - probably the only reason I like forgeting things. :)



P.S. For those of you not on facebook, here's my latest status update:
After using non-acetone remover, WINDEX, and lots of elbow grease the pink fingernail polish Sarah spilled on my white carpet stairs is nearly gone...but my house smells strongly of chemicals...and Scentsy.