Sometimes we talk about how crazy we are. How analytical, impulsive and sensitive we can be. And folks, I’m not going to sugarcoat this – it’s absolutely true. At times, I think back to what my friend Casey always said when we were in high school, “You know, we’re all just one chromosome away from being completely nuts.” Preach it, brother Crowe.
And while this should be a bit alarming – you know – our maniacal tendencies and obsessive secret habits, I think they’re pretty awesome. Hysterically awesome. They’re what make us – us. And they make really good stories to share over lunch, or happy hour, or tears. Our weirdness, our absolute bonkersville insanity, it’s the stuff that bonds us and challenges us and teaches us to laugh, hard, at ourselves.
What am I talking about? Let’s consider the past few days of my life, dissected by highlights:
Friday evening: I land in Phoenix after a whirlwind 24 hours in San Fran. I’m exhausted beyond belief, functioning solely on caffeine and airplane peanuts. I get home, unpack, and then decide I should go to the gym at 7 p.m. So I do. Then I decide I want to make homemade pasta sauce. I NEED homemade pasta sauce. En route to Trader Joes to purchase ingredients, I think, “Maybe I should stop at Last Chance. Just for a minute. Maybe I need more tank tops in the middle of winter.” So I dash in, for two hours, and leave with five tank tops and a pair of neon green moccasins that were $5. I never made it to Trader Joes, and instead wandered into Fry’s and purchased $70 worth of who-knows-what groceries that included popsicles and cream of mushroom soup. I came home, ate dinner, and then when Jim got home I decided we should begin the New House Search of 2013, which resulted in our realtor coming over at 10 p.m. to update our search parameters and run comps on our current house. Meanwhile, Jim cooked chicken and broccoli. This is how I unwind.
Saturday: We went to look at two houses, neither of which was right for us. Then I decided I should probably use today as a chance to break my bench press record, because that seemed necessary. So I insist* Jim joins me at the gym to spot me. We came, we saw and conquered, and then went out for sandwiches. Later, I decided it was imperative to my existence that I clean out and organize our front hall closet. So that happened. Then we watched The Green Mile and went to a dinner event. *In this instance, insisting is a substitute for whining and/or pouting.
Sunday: The day of rest? I decide I’ll simultaneously do laundry, bathe the dogs and catch up on work. Around noon I picked up my little sister and we went to a farmer’s market. That afternoon I took a nap and watched the end of Little Women. Then I made dinner, took about 17 Instagram photos of the sunset and sent some texts, emails and killer Words with Friends moves. At one point I spent a solid 10 minutes stressing about W2s that are MIA but distracted myself by flipping the couch cushions. Before bed I watched and loved every second of Girls.
Monday: Worked. Went to the chiropractor (who I’ve decided is the only human who can comment on my hips in a non-offensive way). Went to dinner with my mom who was visiting. Got home and started craving dessert – not just any dessert – I
wanted needed fresh cinnamon rolls. So after sending my dear husband to the grocery store for powdered sugar, Mom and I began baking at 8 p.m. They were delicious.
While I don’t have a steady daily routine, this is not an atypical series of events.
I could keep going, but I’ve reached a sharing threshold that toes the line of completely embarrassing myself. I like to believe everyone does things like this and I’m not the only loon out here, but I recognize I’m a little nuts.
However, I love my life, I love being busy and fulfilled and I know what makes me feel that way. I relish the blend of spontaneity and security I’m able to juggle and try not to waste even a second not actively living.
We live in a scary world that can feel like pure madness. Every day that we get to experience in good health with good people is an amazing thing. So go on, wave your crazy flag. You’re in good company.