On impulsive behaviors
Everyone has heard the expression; “he’s no better than anyone else, he still puts his pants on one leg at a time”. With that expression in mind, this morning I found that, if I sat down, it was quite easy to put my pants onto both legs simultaneously.
Does this then make me better than everyone else?
It doesn’t seem to have done so.
At an earlier time in my life, I perfected the art of putting on my bathrobe by throwing it up into the air in such a way as to have it float down onto me. It is a little hard to describe in writing, but trust me; it is even sillier looking in person. I am not sure what inspired me to perfect this method of donning my bathrobe; I just suddenly wanted to find a different way to put it on.
In restaurants, I have been known to crawl under the table to figure out why it was squeaking (loose bolts). My long-suffering wife long ago resigned herself to the fact that I am prone to moments of oddly spontaneous (mis)behavior. My moments of impulsiveness do not faze her at all. She is no longer surprised by them. She has given up even trying to figure out what exactly I think I am doing.
In public, she just quietly says to me under her breath,
“Stop being weird”.
My former roommate is right. The woman deserves sainthood.
Does this then make me better than everyone else?
It doesn’t seem to have done so.
At an earlier time in my life, I perfected the art of putting on my bathrobe by throwing it up into the air in such a way as to have it float down onto me. It is a little hard to describe in writing, but trust me; it is even sillier looking in person. I am not sure what inspired me to perfect this method of donning my bathrobe; I just suddenly wanted to find a different way to put it on.
In restaurants, I have been known to crawl under the table to figure out why it was squeaking (loose bolts). My long-suffering wife long ago resigned herself to the fact that I am prone to moments of oddly spontaneous (mis)behavior. My moments of impulsiveness do not faze her at all. She is no longer surprised by them. She has given up even trying to figure out what exactly I think I am doing.
In public, she just quietly says to me under her breath,
“Stop being weird”.
My former roommate is right. The woman deserves sainthood.
posted by HCaldwell | 6:43 PM
2 Comments:
haha! loves it!
I laughed from start to finish with this entry. My son, who has autism, also has an interest in the area under restaurant tables. The next time he does this, I'll explain to the waitstaff that he's looking for "loose floor boards". HAHAHA Oh, and the part about your pants made me thank my lucky stars that I wans't drinking milk at the time.
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