Gone Crazy; Look At ‘Them’ Roots
Somewhere around 1995 Allen Jackson came out with a song called “Gone Country”. I loved that song, despite the bad grammar; I went around singing it all the time.
“She’s gone country, look at them boots…”
Today I’m singing a different tune.
Yesterday I got out of my car and walked into the post office. You would think I could have seen something that big.
I’ve gotten clumsy lately. I don’t know why unless it’s because I’m losing my mind. I told Hubby the other day that everything was making me crazy.
“I think I’ve gone crazy,” I said to him.
“You’re not crazy, Honey,” he soothed. “You just have a lot on your mind.”
“Don’t try to make me feel better,” I snapped. “I think I have enough sense to know when I’m crazy!”
He looked at me like I might just have a point.
Stress. It’s nature’s way of supplying you with the extra energy to get more things done than there are hours in the day in which to do them.
And worry. How many of you worry about everything? I worry about the kids, the grand kids, Hubby, the dogs, the bills, the taxes, the company that sells those defective coffee makers that burn out after about two weeks. Did you ever buy one of those?
I hate it when I get up in the morning and find that the coffee maker has died sometime during the night. I have to have my coffee. It’s like putting gasoline in a car. I don’t care how many times I say “I think I can, I think I can.” This little engine can’t run without coffee.
And we can’t win every argument, even when we know we’re right and they’re wrong. We can’t go through life and never expect to have a confrontation with another person, even though that person is someone we barely know. Unless, of course, we never go outside of our homes. Sometimes we just have to give in and be the statue and let the other person be the pigeon. I hate to argue. I hate controversy. Have you ever tried to reason with an ignorant person? It’s like trying to hang gravy on the wall or make syrup stand up straight.
I’m the type of person who will do just about anything to keep the peace. I try to remain calm, hold my tongue and smile. Brawling is so unrefined, so uncouth and so “third grade elementary school”. However, I can brawl when the situation calls for it.
I don’t like to get angry. But some people won’t stop until they’ve pushed the other person over the edge. I don’t like me when I’m angry. Nobody else likes me when I’m angry either. I tend to get a little violent. I shout and make hand gestures and get in their face. Okay, I would run head on into a speeding train if it kept on pushing me until I lost my temper.
I can’t tolerate unreasonable people. You can try to communicate rationally with them, to agree with them to a point, but it only makes it worse. If you give some people an inch, they think they’re a ruler. When dealing with this type of person it’s best to stick your fingers in your ears and say “Neenerr! Neenerrr! Neenerr…I can’t hear you!”
I’m still hearing the sound of the Cicadas but they have all left. I’m the only one who keeps hearing this shrill high-pitched drone in my ears. Do you think it might be due to the fact that I have gone crazy?
Look, don’t argue with me…I know I’m crazy. I’m not stupid you know. Besides, I don’t have time to argue. I need to buy some hair color; look at ‘them’ roots!
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