Wellll, it's probably just a gentle way of calling someone a chatterbox. Or as my mother used to say, having diarrhea of the mouth. I'm the queen of rationalization, so I blame this annoying trait of mine on several plausible causes. Middle Child Syndrome for one. Working from home. Alone. But mostly, The Daddler gig. I try to talk to him, but honestly, it's not the same as gabbing with my GFs.
Here's an example of my latest attempt at conversing with him:
Me: Daddy, Deb just woke up, so I'm going to fix lunch. She's going to come later to take you to get your hair cut.
The D: What?
Me: (Louder and more slowly) Deb just woke up, so I'm going to fix lunch. She's going to come over later to take you to get your hair cut.
The D: (Grimacing) What?
Me: DEBBIE...IS...COMING...TO...PICK...YOU...UP...LATER. I'LL...FIX...YOUR...LUNCH.
The D: Ok.
Let's be clear. I'm not complaining. Just venting a little. I swanee, without this blog, I'd go stark, raving mad. I try to spread my loquaciousness around among my friends. For some reason, they still like me. I try to buy them little presents at random times to make up for being so annoying. Since I never remember birthdays, and the holidays overwhelm me, I've adapted. It's a brilliant strategy, I must admit. See, on birthdays and Christmas, people are flooded with gifts. Since it's the thought that counts, if I remember, I call the birthday girl/boy, and launch into my sad imitation of "Happy Birthday, Mr. President." I wax loquacious, expressing my love and affection for my beloved