Sometimes I do dumb things. When I say “Sometimes” I pretty much mean “all the time”. My brain is not always in gear. Quite often my mouth, hands and feet move independently of my brain, as though they belong to someone else and I am always so glad when no one notices except for me.
Some of the “dumb things” I did this month include :
- Realising I have run out of tea, I nip down the shop only to get mesmerised by all the other things on display. I return home having bought everything except teabags and then get inside and have to go straight back out again to the shop to buy what I originally set out for. The kettle has now gone cold and needs reboiling. I don’t have time before I need to go to work so I leave the house having NOT had any tea.
- Suffering from a terrible case of the flu I realise, at some unGodly hour, that I have not got any grass for Roderick the Guinea Pig’s breakfast tomorrow. It is raining outside and very cold. But I go out, coughing and wheezing, without an umbrella, and pick grass in the pouring rain. Could I have waited until the morning when, hopefully, it is a bit warmer and not raining? Yes. Do I wait? No…
- Having possibly “nudged” a car on my way out of the shopping centre carpark, I proceed to drive around the block 4 times, trying to see the car I may have scratched and if I need to leave a note to the owner of said car. By the time I have driven around the lot that many times I can no longer remember which car I was parked next to and can’t even get close enough to see if I’ve scratched it. Could I have just stopped at the time of the incident and inspected any possible damage then? Yes. Did I? No… Is it possible I just went over a bump in the bitumen and didn’t nudge an actual car at all? Yes. Did I panic and worry for the rest of the week that I am a terrible person for not leaving a note on a car I may not even have scratched? Yes.
These are just examples and possibly the least embarrassing dumb things I have done this month. I am capable of so much more. On an almost daily basis, I damage myself on pieces of furniture, walls or bathroom fixtures. I can’t tell you the amount of times I have banged my knee on the bathroom sink when drying off after a shower. The sink is in the same place it has always been in, and yet, I still manage to whack my kneecap on it with amazing regularity as though I am drying off in the dark or in someone else’s unfamiliar bathroom.
I walk into doors. I bang my shoulder on doorknobs all the time. I lock my husband outside when he is having a shower (our bathroom is in an external part of the house) and drive off to work which means he has to climb out a window and knock on a neighbour’s door so he can use their phone and call me to come home and let him back in. Luckily our wardrobes are out there too otherwise the visit to the neighbours might be a little more awkward…
I speak to Roderick in crazy-baby-babbling-idiot talk. He does not have corn husks – he has “Corny corns!” or “Cornios!” He does not get his back scratched – he has a “Scritchy Scritch-Scritch! Ooh ooh ooh!” He probably does not know his own name because he gets called everything but Roderick, example being “Schmecky”, “Bobbin”, “Piggy Wig”, “Monkey” and “Puffin Fresh”. The latter name being one that even I don’t understand.
I really hope I am not alone. I hope that behind closed doors everyone else is being ridiculous and paranoid and weird and downright certifiable. Otherwise I am in trouble. I have a plaque in my house that I made years ago that say “Life’s Too Mysterious – Don’t Take it Serious!” Maybe it should say “Life is Crazy – and so am I!”