Okay so I’m watching Ellen ―which I normally don’t do even though I totally love her― and she gives $25,000 each to these two guys, one was a victim of a hate crime who got his car messed up and the other was a body shop owner who fixed his car for free, and I start crying! Not crying, crying but tears welled up and my vision blurred! Seriously!? What is wrong with me!?
This is why I can’t watch Extreme Home Makeover, read any Chicken Soup for the Soul books or listen to any songs about dying kids and angels. I get misty when people just tell me about sad or poignant things they only heard about which neither one of us have actually witnessed!
To my horror, this condition is progressively getting worse with each passing year. Soon I will be nothing but a quivering pool of protoplasm puddled on my kitchen floor. I suppose one could make the argument that I am just a sensitive soul but really, I think I would be just as sensitive without the unending waterworks. Plus it’s totally embarrassing to have to keep dabbing my eyes when I overhear random conversations about someone’s cousin’s uncle’s girlfriend’s hairdresser’s cute new puppy.
If anyone knows of a cure for this malady, please, please, please, let me know . . . ‘course I will start blubbering uncontrollably so you better include a box of tissues . . .