On the verge of my 46th birthday, as I ponder the meaning of time, and more importantly, whether I’m wasting vast gobs of it on ridiculous and absurd endeavors, I have developed a self-help quiz that I like to call: What in the world was I thinking? It goes like this:
• … when I ordered a book on Alexander Hamilton that is as thick as a concrete block … and almost as heavy. I got another book on the great (wait, who was he again?) Founding Father for Christmas, but when I sat down to read it the other night, I realized it was more of a “Hamilton for Dummies” version. Seeing as how I might be a dummy, but don’t like to admit it in public, I snapped the book shut in disgust and said aloud, “This simply will NOT do!” Then I ordered the authoritative, gold standard version … which just so happens to be 7-feet-tall and required two large men to deliver through my door. To turn a page, I stand on a step ladder and use a slightly damp mop to flip from the far edge. What in the world was I thinking? (And do I secretly go back and read the Dummies version?)
• … when I thought I could get a handle on my email problem. Why didn’t I try my hand at cheap, harness-able fission? Or maybe a warp drive for space ships? A simple fool like me would at least have a shot at taming those. But to crack email, something scientists and philosophers have been wrestling with since the days of Aristotle?!? I must have gone mad. And all because I read a couple of blog posts talking about how you could “zero-out” your inbox and use a system of elaborate folders and conjure up dark spirits from the underworld who also happen to make great electronic filers and exceptional customer service representatives (when not dabbling in the dark arts or torturing innocent souls.) What in the world was I thinking? (And do I just start pretending that incredibly violent sneezes caused me to “accidentally” hit delete on ALL of my email?)
• … when I thought I should start doing push ups every day. This was because when you measure the width of my chest, you actually come up with a number that vacillates around minus-3/8s of an inch. So, I took up pushups in an attempt to add girth to my poor, anemic pecs. Great idea! Only, do you know why pushups were invented? For one sole reason: To push-yourself-up quickly after falling out of a tree so no one ever notices. That’s it! That’s the only reason! And you only need to be able to do one. Not 15. Not sets of 3. Just one. And if you don’t climb trees, you don’t even need to do that! What in the world was I thinking? (And would it be easier to get one of those Superman costumes with the blow-up pecs that I can wear underneath my shirt?)
• … when I thought that waking up at 5 a.m. in the morning to write self-help quizzes as a way to find meaning and better use of my time. What in the world was I thinking? (And who in the world is that Alexander Hamilton guy again?)