THE SONIC BOOMER
People sometimes ask me, “Where do you get the ideas for your column?” My answer is always, “Life.” Then they look at me quizzically because, having normal lives, they don’t understand.
These are the people I envy.
People like that get up in the morning, brush their teeth, have a cup of coffee and begin a day that is calm and predictable. We’ve all seen these people. Their jobs are routine; their children are normal; their clothes are wrinkle-free.
People like me get up in the morning wrestling with the vestiges of some weird dream we had, punch our spouses in the arm for being unfaithful (in the dream), brush our teeth with a wet toothbrush (someone else used it acci-”dentally”) and leave for work without any coffee because yesterday the pot shattered when we dropped it after stepping on a Lego brick.
We go to our jobs (hitting every single stoplight along the way) and pray, just pray, that we have a routine, boring day. We don’t. The bank branch we use is closed for no discernible reason. The credit card machine we need reads “error.” And the Internet is down.
I don’t have young children in the house anymore but, when I did, I had to be ready for anything — cuts, scrapes, fevers, chills, lumps, bumps, nausea and the always-mystifying, “I don’t feel good.” Homework was lost, toys were broken or there was a “very important!” birthday party with no known address.
I’ve heard there is such a thing as a “put-together” look. This is a mindful appearance, the result of careful planning in regard to one’s clothing, makeup and accessories. The closest I’ve ever come to putting anything together is wearing two shoes that match.
People with normal lives eat healthy meals, served at a predictable time of day, every day without fail.
My breakfast is non-existent; lunch is in a paper sack thrown at me through a drive-through window; and dinner, unfortunately, is up to me.
I don’t like to cook. The ROI on it is bad. (ROI means “return on investment,” like when you buy gold and the value goes up exponentially because the stock market, along with the economy, has been thrown into the toilet. More on that later… not.)
The ROI when I cook dinner is very small. A lot of this is due to lack of skill, brought on by a) lack of effort and b) lack of caring. True, I end up fed, but the hours invested in shopping and cooking hardly equal the 20 minutes it takes me to eat the thing — a very poor ROI. Better to have a paper bag tossed in my general direction.
If I’ve cooked for others, it’s even worse. The time I’ve invested goes up and the best ROI I can expect is a compliment, which is seldom forthcoming due to a) and b) above.
Yet there are two good things to be said about my life. 1) It provides me with plenty of ideas for my column, and 2) I save thousands of dollars on professional therapy due to having a column.
Now that’s very good ROI.
