They're coming to take me away, hee hee ho ho

For all my friends and loved ones who are reading this, be forewarned: don't be surprised if I am suddenly MIA for a week or two. No, I'm not going on vacation. Well, I suppose it could be viewed as a vacation of sorts, depending on one's mental state.

I'm considering checking myself into the loony bin. I'm not crazy. I just really need a break from my kids. I mean... they think it's fun to play with poop. Seriously, what did I do in my childhood to deserve this kind of torture? I think I need to explore my inner person a little, and I need to do it as an inpatient.

I've put a great deal of thought into this. I considered doing something illegal, like stealing a car, and just getting myself arrested. Jail seemed like as good a place as any to escape to (oh, the irony), but after further contemplation I decided this might not be a good idea. I made a list comparing jail to the mental hospital. Following are my thoughts on the various aspects of my stay in either place.

1. Written record of my stay. Jail records are public. Anyone can go online and find out exactly how many times a person has been in legal trouble. That might come back to bite me in the butt later in life. My shrink would be sworn to silence. The verdict: mental hospital.

2. The menu. It's my understanding that the county jail in these parts does not employ a gourmet chef. I hear talk of beans... lots and lots of beans. Beans make me fart, so I'm not cool with that. I have to think that the food choices will be better in the nuthouse. Nobody wants to give people in unbalanced mental states bad food - the idea is to make the residents there happy, not gassy. I'll pass on the magical fruit. The verdict: mental hospital.

3. The neighbors. This one has no clear slant. I sure as hell don't want to be the bitch of some scary woman with tattoos on her face that's imprisoned for killing her boyfriend. I also am not sure I want to exchange personal info with someone who has a collection of voices in their head - the pressure to make sure they all like me might be too much to deal with. The verdict: undecided.

4. The accommodations. I feel pretty sure that my chances at a comfortable bed and a houseplant are better in the mental ward. Like I said, the idea is to make the people living there happy, not to punish them. The verdict: mental hospital.

5. The wardrobe. This one's a no-brainer. I don't look good in orange. The verdict: mental hospital.

6. Recreation. In jail you get to walk around outside for a short time every day. Sunshine is good, but drugs are better. In the loony bin they give you drugs and tell you that weaving baskets is great fun. I've always wanted to know how to make a basket. I'll stock up for Christmas. The verdict: mental hospital.

7. The release process. At some point I'm going to want to come home. Clearly, I'm not walking out of jail when I'm "done." I could try, but I'm going to need someone to send me a cake with a file in it. The verdict: mental hospital.

Looks like the mental hospital is my best bet. Now that it's clear what the better choice is, I just need to figure out how to get them to let me in. Maybe I'll just make a copy of this post and let them read it. Anybody who would write all this out and weigh "jail vs. nuthouse" is probably in need of a few days alone in a padded room and a double dose of Prozac.

I'll start packing.