Next Stop: Nuthouse
I was looking out the living room window earlier. It looked like a storm was rolling in so I went to check it out, and then while I was at the window I just sort of glazed over and started staring into space, thinking. (The kids were all napping, so I could hear myself.) And you know how when you stare at something long enough, it blurs, and you just can’t avert your eyes? It’s like your eyeballs fall asleep or something. Anyway, when I snapped out of that, my eyes focused on the window of the house across the street. Here was my immediate train of thought:
OMG someone’s standing at that window. They probably think I’m looking at them. They probably think I’m some paranoid freak, looking out my window. Like a crackhead or something. But wait. They’re at the window too. So that means either they’re paranoid freaks or they’re just looking at the weather like me.
And then I realized that not only was I not seeing a person in the window across the street, it was like a reflection of their mailbox or some stupid thing that doesn’t even look like a person. So then I thought:
Wow, I totally thought that was a person. Wait, does that count as a hallucination? Was I hallucinating? Do crazy people know they’re going crazy? Am I going crazy and don’t even know it?*
*(After reading this, my answer is most likely yes.)
So … what if I am, y’all? Going crazy, I mean? I sometimes do feel like I’m going a bit insane when I’m cleaning up the 89,000th kid-or-animal mess of the day. Or when I’m dealing with one minor fiasco and two more sprout up behind my back. Would I know if I started to toe the line between sanity and la-la land? Does anybody?
If you see me wandering around in public, pantsless and muttering to myself, please interrupt me to let me know that my question’s been answered.
