Crazy Magnet

My sane friends love to taunt me about my  Crazy Collection.

It never fails.  I’ll be at the grocery store, in a college literature course, at the park pushing my kids on the swings, and someone will inevitably approach and reveal their insanity to me.  I’m getting better at detecting the Crazies in the first few seconds of interaction, but sometimes even then it’s too late, and they’ve insinuated themselves into my life, sometimes forever (I love you, Crazy Mary!).

I’ve considered it, really I have.  But I am fairly certain that I do not  accidentally-on-purpose draw them to me for sheer entertainment value.    And I’ve looked, more than once.  I do not have a blinking neon sign on my head that says “Crazies Welcome Here”, or even, “Free Meds”.  But somehow they find me, as though they are magnetically drawn.

I’ve tried avoidance.  I’ve tried out and out cruelty.  However short of becoming a shut-in (and I have a sneaking suspicion even that wouldn’t work), I have become accustomed to the reality that there is no escape.  In fact, I am even beginning to accept the possibility that I’m not supposed to escape it…that maybe part of my purpose, my role in the whole big picture,  is to help my Crazies find their way to sanity.

Whatever that is….

So, I continue on, collecting my Crazies, and loving it all for what it is.

Come, meet some of my Crazies.  Maybe even become one of them.