Sittin' on my yaya waitin' for my somethin' somethin'

I woke up at 6:30 this morning with the song "Sittin on My Yaya" playing loudly on my internal jukebox while my left foot kept time by bopping the side of the bed. Then I noticed that fake bugs (because they couldn't possibly be real) were crawling up and down my spine. And then I realized I was about to jump out of my skin.

I wandered around for a few hours discussing with myself whether I should call my ADHD doctor to see if the newly added Prozac might be the problem (doh!) or take the drug through the weekend in case this was just a transitional ... what word fits here ... hallucination? that would end when my brain chemicals adjusted to the addition.

A word to the wise: If you're doing something that makes you feel as though bugs are crawling up and down your spine? Stop doing it.

Funny about that jukebox. It played nonstop until I started on the ADHD drugs. (In truth, I thought everyone had a brainiac jukebox.) It wouldn't be as bad if I had control of the switches, but I don't. All I can do is report what's playing, or sing along.

Meanwhile, my friend Adrienne has gone to Jackson, Mississippi, to be part of the annual St. Patrick's Day parade -- yes, the very one that kicked off the literary success of Jill Conner Browne, THE Sweet Potato Queen. I am so jealous. Adrienne will be part of the parade while my imaginary bugs and I are here at home. Hope she tosses back a margarita or two for me.