There Is No Weird

We all have our own unique lifestyles.

Our own personal way to deal with life.

I worked for a book distributor from 1999 to 2005. For a year or so, worked in the warehouse with a woman named Judy.

Judy was your stereotypical, crotchety, NH woman, set in her ways, grotesquely opinionated and unafraid to tell you just what she thought.

We reported for work in the warehouse at 7:00 a.m.

Judy got up at 4:00 a.m. - every day - so she could do her laundry, clean the house, dust the windowsills, wax her apples - perform whatever every day tasks were required - before she went to work.

That way she had half the afternoon and all night after escaping work, to just relax and/or do whatever the hell she wanted to do.

I thought that was exceptionally strange. I never told her that because she would have told me to drop dead.

She did not think her schedule was strange.

I worked for an insurance company for a while in Concord NH. Worked with a young accountant who was married with two kids.

This guy and his wife did not food shop. They went out to eat every night at McDonald's, Burger King etc.

He theorized that it was cheaper to do that than it was to buy food.

And they didn't have to set foot in a grocery store.

I am sure there were certain staples they had to buy, but by and large, they did not participate in the mad scramble to fill the larder.

I thought that was exceptionally strange. I never told him because I allowed for the possibility that he was on to something.

Of course he and his wife probably both died prematurely of heart attacks and I'm sure his kids each weight 777 pounds.

The thing is, each of these individuals had extreme approaches to life that worked for them.

How weird are we all?

What is weird?

I roll out of bed in the morning and immediately snort a line of premium cocaine.

Then I spread an inch thick layer of nutella on my face so I can casually lick it off during the day.

Especially during times of stress.

I walk rapidly into the bathroom and perform a wild, undulating dance in front of the full length mirror that attracts good fortune into my day. I wear a dashiki and a fedora.

I brush my teeth with deodorant and spread toothpaste under my arms.

I rush downstairs in a race against Maka (she always wins), where I gobble a baby aspirin, cholesterol medication, blood pressure medication, two shots of premium whiskey and a three pound turkey leg.

I  go to work and punch my boss in the face.

This is a ritual that works for me.

Who's to say I'm wrong?

Everybody needs a ritual they can use to fight back against life.

There is no weird.