Hello, I'm from the Horsehead Nebulae

Do any of you wonder if you really operate on a whole other wavelength from the vast majority of people with whom you come into contact? You know, Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus, and though you'd secretly thought your mother had adopted you from Jupiter, you woke one day to discover you are from a whole different galaxy?

That's what I've felt like this weekend.

Like, I'll be in a group, and they are talking about a subject. And everyone there seems to be on the same plain, right? Except me. I can't wrap my brain around what they are talking about because I have this whole other nagging issue about what I THOUGHT we were talking about, but I'm the only one.

Worse (as if it could worse than operating on a different plain than your whole social network), here's an example:

I am obsessed with a house that is for sale. Right next door to said house is a gorgeous home. Plenty big for my family. Looks like a neat layout. THIRTY-THOUSAND dollars less than the one I'm obsessed with. See, I could be obsessed with a home with nice siding, move in ready, yellow (I live yellow homes), well-landscaped, CHEAPER, and very stereotypical I-have-arrived-in-this-county home that 99% of the people I know would love to have. Well, I think so. Anyway...

No, I must be obsessed with the repo next door. There is a massive hole in the dining room ceiling. The siding on this house is Nas-ty. You just drive by this house and it looks like a wart on the nose of the neighborhood princess. I want the silly house. And it costs $30,000 more! And I have no idea why. But I keep asking Hubs if we can go see it. As if we could afford it, anyway.
(We can't even afford the one next door! Shoot, we can't afford the one we are currently in!)

Here's one more:

So Hubs might sell his company. I say might because the counter offer that was supposed to come in, didn't. And I'm supposed to be praying that this will happen. And last night I confessed to Hubs that I can't pray it. I'm scared of the money. I only know broke. I have a whole identity in broke. I love clearance racks. I get a rush out of buying three pair of jeans, two skirts, a pair of shoes and a hair thingy for $24.53. Not only that, what if I can't change to accommodate having money and Hubs leaves me for a woman who likes the lavish lifestyle? What if the money changes me and I just want more and more sparkley things? What if our children get even more materialistic than they already are?

What if, what if, what if???????

See? I'm a freak. I'm from the Horsehead Nebulae. I'm only pretending to be Venutian.