I have been sweating like a madwoman during the night for the last two weeks, waking up one several occasions dripping in sweat. For a while there, my research (via google, via family and friend consultation) revealed that I could possibly be heading into early menopause, or perhaps have a kidney tumor. Yesterday, I blew a fuse whipping up some homemade pate and discovered in the fuse box that I turned off the heater in my bedroom this past summer to save energy. It’s winter (duh!) and I’ve been sleeping in a room that is probably around 45-50 degrees at night, which leads to pulling on more blankets, which leads to my body overheating itself, which leads to sweat.
Since turning on the fuse, no sweat….I am happy to say that I might not have cancer after all. I’ve just caught a nasty case of being an idiot.
I confessed my idiocy over a happy hour of lovely merlot, hot artichoke crab dip and kobe beef loafs. Happy hour convo rocks, because it leads fabulously to nowhere. A very intelligent man explained his impatience with most people, because his philosophy was that most people are idiots. This did not evoke a pity party of all our experiences with such individuals, but rather a discussion of What makes a person an “idiot?”
I harbor a inclination to understand others and rationalize their perspective and behaviors. It’s not only a key aspect of my profession, but it is ingrained in a people-pleasing, security-seeking sort of way. To understand why a person acts “idiotically” relieves me a bit. I came up with a rather mature definition of idoiocity: not being intentional, moving about life randomly.
But let’s face it. Sometimes people are just idiots, right?
Don’t get me wrong, I consider myself pretty intentional. It’s easy to come up with reasons why OTHERS are idiots, because it makes us feel less like idiots. But, I usually crack myself up when I am an idiot.
When I use tablespoons of baking powder instead of teaspoons and creating a lava flow of dough. When I plug in my bluetooth all night instead of my cell phone. When I call my aunt bursting in a sexy rendition of Happy Birthday to realize in the refrain that the day is tomorrow.
Usually I find humor in being an idiot myself. I find empathy in the idiocy of others.
But seriously, people, how hard is it to –fill in the blank here (use a turn signal, pee inside a toilet, find weapons of mass destruction?)—what idiotic thing are you doing right now?