Which isn't all that often. Seriously people. I'm not just shooting the shit with you on that. I try really hard to not think. It gets me in t.r.o.u.b.l.e.
For instance. I get in trouble with my husband because if my daughter sneezes, and I get to thinking, I wrap my almost 11yr old daughter in a few hundred blankets (because winter is officially here with snow on the ground and wind that will rip your outer layer of skin off), carry her to the car, which isn't a easy feat since she is almost taller then me, and rush her to the doctor. He then tells me that she has allergies. So. In a nutty nutshell, I basically just spent $30 (thanks to our insurance co-pay going up) for me to learn something I already knew. And my daughter is pissed and won't talk to me for awhile because I suffocated her.
Another example. If I get to thinking, I suddenly think that I have a life debilitating disease. I sat up all night long on WebMd pondering if I had a cancerous tumor wrapped around my aorta. I rush to the doctor, give him my diagnosis, tell him why and walk out of there with my head hung low in shame. Because he scolded me for being on WebMd again. Another shameful walk to the receptionist to shell out another $30.
And one more crazy moment. I swore that my house was haunted. I got to thinking about why the fan will move sometimes or footsteps are heard. I get freaked out, sit with a blanket over my head, praying with my rosary in hand until my husband comes home and explains the footsteps are the wind (45mile per hour winds in South Dakota) and the fan moves when the heat comes on. Try making up a lie like "I was just kidding and see if you would be my hero!" to that one. It goes over like a prostitute trying to get money from a priest.
So....it is best to not think. I can think about things like "Oh shitty shit, I broke a nail." or "Why the flippity flip is my middle toe bigger then my big toe?" or "Craptastic, the dog just shit downstairs and then threw up in it's pile of shit!"
These are okay to think about. My husband allows this thinking. He was worried when I pondered who to vote for. I did think about how to save the country but that just turned me into a blubbering douche bag. It took a priest, a bottle of wine and a shopping trip to get me out of my blubber douche bag state. And yet....I still chose the loser. For the first time since I have been voting....I chose the loser. This was almost a suicidal attempt. I don't like picking losers. I like picking my nose...but not losers.
Now...I have to go find someone to fix my broken nail and clean my house from a crazy bunko night that ended with tequila getting spilled on my carpet and my dogs getting drunk and singing "Tequila" with a worm in their mouth. I have a crazy life.