Eventually though I start to lose my mind. I don't know when it happens, or exactly why, but pretty soon I become convinced that I'm starring in a horror movie and that somebody is sneaking up behind me with a knife. I'm watching myself on TV shouting "turn around Caleb! He's going to shank you!" So I keep turning around to look, but nary a knife do I see.
Convinced I'm going crazy, I usually go distract myself by... well, anything. Because "anything" is pretty much what qualifies as "more fun than reading for law school." And yes, that includes kicks to the junk.
But maybe I'm still crazy. How else could you explain this?
What! I KNEW there was a ninja trying to knife me! Real subtle, ninja. Real subtle.
But maybe I was imagining that. Hard to tell. But... cats don't ordinarily love cigarettes, right? I mean- am I crazy or is my roommate's cat going crazy for cigarettes? Nope. I'm hallucinating. Definitely crazy.
Hmm. I'm probably not crazy, but how can you tell? Well I suppose one way is that your own cat is begging to be shipped away from you because she fears for her own safety. I thought cats stuck with you till the bitter end? They're not supposed to bail on you just because you might be a little crazy!
|When I reminded her that there wasn't any room for food in the box, she backed out.|
Hmm. I may or may not be hallucinating, but surely I'm not acting crazy or anything. It's totes normal to roll your cigarettes in your sleeve and shave down to a mustache, right?
|"Is that a mustache or a shadow?" asks Aubree. Thanks. As if it's not already|
embarrassing that I'm almost 29 and can't grow a beard.
Okay. A little weird. I'll go back to reading, but some fun, nerdy sci-fi stuff instead of law school. Like this- what the hell! No way. No way somebody would make this a title of a chapter. I'm going crazy.
Fine. FINE. There is only one sure-fire way to tell you're not crazy. Wearing pants. Crazy people do. not. wear. pants. Hence, as long as I have pants on, I can't be crazy. But do I? I realize that I no longer know what "pants" means, nor do I understand the concept of "wearing." So not wanting to go to school each day as a crazy pants-less guy, I have to get confirmation from my roommate that I am, indeed, wearing pants.
So far I've always managed to wear pants to school. BUT, one day I spent 5 minutes confirming that I had pants on, but left the house in my slippers instead of my shoes. And everybody knows that forgetting shoes is just one crazy step from forgetting pants. There will come a day, friends, where I will NOT be wearing pants. If you see me that day, please take me into custody, shave my stupid face, and make sure I get pants on right away. Kthanks.
No. I'm totally not going crazy.
(number of times I checked for pants wearing while writing this: 7)
I found this picture and it's funny.
You Allie fans might appreciate this one: