Do you have things that haunt you?  Yeah, I’m not talking about ghosts, vampires, or stalker ex-girlfriends.  I was really referring to that stupid stuff that you can’t shake like the fact that you misplaced your best pair of scissors 3 months ago and they haven’t resurfaced.  Does that happen to you?  Do you let stupid crap plague your mind and bother you when you have a million better things to be thinking about?  Happens to me all the time. 

Sometimes, it’s hard to remember to take garbage out on garbage day or to pick up the pictures at Walgreens, yet somehow you can replay an entire conversation you had 3 weeks ago with your boss.

Out of nowhere, do you sometimes wish that you could go back to 1989 and tell that idiot who called you a “whore” for not sleeping with him that you obviously were not a whore and that apparently, you just had better taste than his sorry ass?  Comebacks are one of the worst.  Why is it you never think of them at the exact moment you need them, but then they stay with you for eternity after the fact?  Drives me insane!  Oh, the many things I’ve thought of after someone called me a bossy bitch!  Sure, it might be accurate, but it doesn’t necessarily give the person the right to mention it.  And what about the things you wish you would have said to the solicitor who told you their church was better than yours?  You can’t tell me you haven’t altered conversations in your head a million different times wishing for different outcomes.  I’m betting there’s at least one break-up you would re-do, or an encounter with your parents you feel guilty about now, or an “I love you” you should have said to the best friend that ended up marrying someone else while you pined away for them. 

But sometimes it isn’t just about the comebacks, it’s the questions you’d like to ask.  Like why the hell didn’t you call me again?  Or what the hell were you thinking backing my car onto the golf course at 2:30 in the morning?  Or why did you waste so much of your time calling me names and making fun of me in school when you had 225 other people to choose from?  Or hey dumbass, I do your laundry, the dishes, and birthed your children and you can’t remember to buy me some freaking flowers every now and then?  Those are the things that just don’t seem to let go.

Then again, there’s also the things you did, or didn’t, buy that can creep into your thoughts and irritate the crap out of you.  Like that dress you saw at Von Maur that was way cute and on the 90% clearance rack but you didn’t really “need” a dress for anything, but now it’s a month down the road, you’ve looked everywhere and your husband’s company banquet is tomorrow night.  Damn it!  Or what about those boots you knew would keep you warm hunting, but you were too lazy to buy.  Now it’s mid-winter, you’re tromping through snow and can’t find a pair in your size to save your life, or at least your wed, cold feet.  And do you ever get pissed off when you get home to realize you should have bought the freaking cheese block you spied in the grocery store but didn’t buy because it wasn’t on the list only to get home and realize it would have been perfect for your pasta tonight so now you’re kicking yourself for not going with your gut?  Yeah, these are the situations that make a person unhappy with themselves. 

Now, all of these are minor, but there’s nothing worse than when something comes back to bite you in the ass. For instance, remember that vase that great grandma Maurine left you in her will that you thought rivaled moldy raw meat as the ugliest thing ever?  Yeah, it’s a real kick in the ass to see the vase you dumped off at the Salvation Army on Antiques Roadshow worth a quarter-mil.  Pretty much haunts you every time you look at your sad bank account total when you write a check for your kid’s tuition or have to bypass a vacation to Cancun.  Just sayin’.

The good news is that with all that stuff stored in your mind, it sometimes keeps you from doing more idiotic things.  No, really.  I guarantee that next time a relative leaves you a “beautiful” piece of art you’ll wrap it up and shove it in the attic till it’s time to collect the money.  And I can probably guess that next time somebody calls you a whore, you will have more than a mouthful of less-than-china-doll-mannered commentary for them.  But most importantly, history will not repeat itself.  Unless of course, I win the lottery, in which case, history can repeat itself as often as it wants!  Till then, tune out the ghosts of boyfriends past and focus on lollipops and sunshine.  That and have a great week!