The Definition of Crazy

Today the topic is birds, or perhaps one particular bird.  I'm not really certain if it was one or more birds, as I never got a chance to view the bird(s) in action.

Now, I could have ascertained the type and exact number of bird(s) if perhaps if I were someone else.  It would have been possible, as I have reflective film on my front storm door and I could have sat, with the inside door open, and viewed the bird(s) without his/her/their knowledge to answer that question.  That is, I could have sat if I could have drug my recliner from the living room and if it would fit in the hallway next to the small secretary.

Okay, it's true, if I could have, I could have drug the secretary from the hallway and then, but only then, my ruby red Pee-wee Herman sized chair would have fit in the hall.  The hall is plenty big enough for the red chair... the hall isn't THAT small and the chair isn't THAT big so don't be getting any ideas that are unsupported by the facts.

But I can't have done that because I have ME/CFS, and I don't have the energy to do all that dragging even if my recliner and I are very good friends.  No, get your mind out of the DSM, ME/CFS has nothing to do with crazy (my recliner doesn't talk back to me when I talk to it, er, I DON'T TALK TO MY RECLINER!), and this topic has nothing to do with ME/CFS.  And before the pronouns get any crazier, let's just agree that it was ONE bird (most likely a bird with a spouse).

So... A bird decided to try to build a nest on the top of the column for my small front porch, a very tiny ledge.  Not the tiniest of ledges mind you--I've seen smaller with bird's nests--where the builder didn't bother to match the size of the roofing trusses with the column.  Frankly, I'd never noticed the ledge until this bird, A bird... the bird (and I suppose I could, like some bloggers, post a picture of this uneventful ledge, but thank goodness I've yet to figure out how to load and post pictures, and so you'll just have to trust me).  

The bird was never successful, though it tried for weeks.  Yes, literally weeks on end, leaving all sorts of nest material all over the front porch, particularly at the base of the column, the opening to the walkway.  No sooner than the Teen (bless her heart) cleaned it up without my asking (after all she had to walk through it, as I enter and leave through the garage... it's much cooler to keep the car there), the mess would reappear.  Why not just use the nesting material already on the porch?  Was it defective?  Is that why you couldn't build your nest crazy bird?  Defective nesting material?

At any rate, the bird also deposited all sorts of other material at the base of my storm door on my nice iron-worked scroll welcome matt (the one that's got a wee break in the iron, the one I'll never be able to replace as cheaply, because, well, it probably doesn't exist anymore in retail land) AND the cement porch underneath (squee, yes, cement... I hate it and if I had the energy, I'd tile it or perhaps paint it--maybe with a tile pattern, realistic like) AS HE REPEATEDLY (notice how the bird has morphed into a "he") flew into the front door over and over again.  Surprisingly, this didn't kill the bird.  As for brain damage, I have no idea; perhaps it figured into his repeating his insanely crazy act.

The bird, however, drove my dog Bonnie crazy and in turn, I was repeatedly perturbed and bordered on acting crazy.  "It's just a bird!" I'd yell.  I so wanted to be grown up about this and be a good dog owner, but after a while... "Get over it Bonnie!  It's a bird, a bird, a bird!"

All of THAT (me included), reminded me of the quotation, "Sheesh, what was that saying?  I had it in mind when I started to write this blog!" (Claire goes in search of the saying.)  Ah, found... Albert Einstein.  Quote: "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."  (Albert as bright as he was, used the commonly used legal term insane, which means knowing the difference between right and wrong, commonly and incorrectly when he ought to have used the more common word for nuts, crazy.  Hey, don't go pulling out your dictionaries, as you'll only prove me wrong and don't go pointing out that I used insanely above in front of the word crazy and repeated myself, redundantly.  And don't point out the redundancy of that either.  It's attorneys who rather insist that insane has a legal meaning... well, actually, it does, but it also has this common meaning and so dear Albert was, well, right in his usage.  And don't tell me you didn't enjoy my making fun of both Albert and lawyers in one swift swoop.)

I have a lot of experience at this sort of crazy and so I relate to the bird, brain damaged as he might have been.  You see, I was once married for 21 years and thought that one day my ex would magically start treating me, well, the way I needed to be treated (we won't go there, he was and no doubt continues to be a wonderful man... he just wasn't a good match for me or perhaps me for him or we for us).  I've also persisted in thinking that adults are grown ups, that people are generally rational, that the social world is less cut throat than the world of work.  Yeah, a whole garden variety of happy crazy.

But I'm wising up or perhaps becoming more sane, earning my adult wings the way Bluebirds fly up into Browniehood.  (If you don't get that reference, here, a wiki link and another and oh, alright, and this.  And yes, you're right, Blue Birds are/were Camp Fire girls--well, that's coed now--and Brownies are/were Girl Guides elsewhere in the world and Girl Scouts, here in the USA.  But they should fly up into Browniehood because they are both birds even though Brownies in the US, on the average could have been, technically speaking, younger than Blue Birds and birds tend to get brighter as they fly up into adulthood not browner.  Daisies are the youngest of Girl Scouts.  Where in the world did they come up with that?)

I suppose you notice that I tend to go around the world to cross the street.  My mother used to tell me, "You go around the block to cross the street," and it was my ex-Y who correctly reframed that so you can thank him.  Well, today, I had extra fun doing it on purpose for you (and no I never really yelled "It's a bird, a bird, a bird" to Bonnie; THAT was exaggeration).

I hope you enjoyed the travelogue.

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A t-shirt for those similarly afflicted.