Three Weird Things I Do

I’ve noticed a couple habits that are deeply troubling when analyzed. Not because they’re anything bad. In some cases they are quite common. The problem is that they make no sense. Mine are going to be different from yours, but we all have some version of them. The things anyone else would deem absolutely nuts. But that’s part of the fun of being a person - our strange little quirks. Let’s begin.

First weird thing: I have a phone case. Why is this strange? Because I hate phone cases. What I love is the amount of detail and engineering that goes into making a modern phone. They’re sleek, they look incredible, and feel industrial in your hand. It’s less weight and bulk in your pocket. It’s the equivalent of organic, grass fed metal and circuitry. Don’t believe me? Take your phone out of its case, and use it normally for a few hours. It’s just better.

The reason I put a case on my phone is because I drop it from time to time. That would be the end of this, except for the fact that I have insurance from Apple, so if I do drop my phone, they will fix it for free. That’s where insanity enters the room. Why pay for insurance to protect something, then put a second layer of unwanted protection over that? I should either ditch the case or the insurance. Unfortunately, I’m not likely to do either.

Second weird thing: I stress over asymmetrical piles of things in my house. I know lots of people enjoy clean, organized homes. That’s not what I’m talking about. I am referring to the heap of library books my daughter dumped on the table after school. That mound, it bothers me. Within ten minutes, I will have stacked those books into a nice pyramid at the center of the table. In some cobweb-covered corner of my brain, I guess I imagine someone walking in, seeing the scattered books, and confirming their suspicion that I am a bumbling lout.

The third weird thing is perfect for someone who works in construction: I don’t like being dirty. I hear the objections of many small children taunting, and labeling me weak for confessing such a thing. I am somewhat disappointed myself. But we are what we are.

To be clear, I do get dirty a lot. On jobs where I have to cut stone, I get engulfed in a tornado of dust. It sticks everywhere. It even gets in my nose, forming cement boogers by the end of the day. But as I have been pointing out, I’m weird. So to combat this wave of grime, I have a large industrial fan strapped to a cutting table. I also have an air compressor under the table. And after every cut, I take out the hose and blow myself off from head to toe. It’s a good system, and it keeps me from looking like a dirt-caked lagoon monster at the end of the day.

Do other normal people on the job site think this overkill? Absolutely. I’ve seen the occasional sideways glance. I’ve heard the offhanded comments about the delicacy I must feel for my skin. Doesn't matter to me. I’m an adult, and I can do what I want.

Being weird is better than being a conformist. Doesn’t that really hit home as an American? Our society is built on the belief in the value of the individual. We all have the same worth, and every person is equal in human dignity. What’s really cool is that we get to be ourselves. Our value isn’t derived from what we do, how we look, or how we act. We matter because people matter. When you understand that, you get to let go of social norms and let your weird flag fly.