Have you ever met a Crazy Person?
I mean, a really CRAZY person? Somebody who busts the bell curve on whacko and who’s completely off the freak scale? Somebody whose only purpose in life is to make people like Jeffrey Dahmer and Freudian thumb-sucking lunatics looks normal? Somebody who’s so far out of left field, they’d had to rent a telescope just to see it (“Look! I think I can see left field from here! If you squint really hard…”)
I know a lady like this. Whoa! totally nuts.
It all started several years ago. She was working as a member of the world’s oldest profession. And, for my computer programming friends out there, I DON’T mean she was a Cobol programmer, Ok? So, she meets this guy and after a long tempestuous relationship that lasted an arduous two weeks, she decides she wants to marry. Trouble is, she neglects to mention her, um, shall we say “way of life” to him.
So Terry and I go to the wedding and we’re sitting there joking about it. “Can you imagine,” he says to me, “what tomorrow morning will bring? ‘Do you like your eggs fryed or scrambled and oh…by the way…I’m a hooker. Would you please pass the salt….’ How scary!”
Indeed Terry is right about one thing. You never do know what tomorrow will bring. And you really do need to salt your eggs before the crap hits the air circulator.
But, that’s all just my opinion. What do I know? I’m not even all that crazy. Although I must admit, she does make me feel better. I gain a certain comfort knowing that, somewhere out there is a total lunatic and my, shall we say “left of center” leanings don’t even measure on the whacko Rhichter scale. Nope. Not me. Not even a blip on the big crazy meter. It’s strangely comforting being, um, “normal,” I guess. Makes you think that, in this big, crazy world, there’s room for all types.
Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in “Carol’s Little World” signing off.