The Smartest Man Ever

He makes me so damned mad. Most days I could smack him with a frozen leg of lamb and feel so much better for it. A FIVE MINUTE STORY

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I have a friend who knows everything. I mean actually everything.

He can explain to me, for example, how to graft a new branch onto an old apple tree, how to make compost and save the world, and how it is simply not possible for dogs to think or to love.

He advises me on the best personal diet for a healthier me and a healthier planet. He tells me which toxic prescription medicines to Stop. Taking. Right. Now!  He knows what kind of exercise I need and the benefits of daily doses of apple cider vinegar.

My friend knows whom I should vote for and why, and how to apply for building permits. He understands and is willing to explain zoning laws in detail, and the reasons it is important to preserve riparian corridors. He tells me why I should avoid using all paper products and how a shock absorber works and how often I should change the batteries in my smoke alarm. I am not kidding. There is no end to his knowledge and his willingness to share it..

In short he is absolutely insufferable. Most days I could smack him with a frozen leg of lamb and feel so much better for it. However — and here is the paradox: I envy him in a way. How wonderful it must be to know you have the one right answer for everything. To know, without question, what your purpose is here on earth, to live a mindful life, and know, without a doubt,  where you are going when you die? Imagine the inner peace that must bring a person!

He makes me so damned mad sometimes. Still I would love to experience the comfort that his certitude gives him, delusional or not. Because, I tell you, I wander around this place most of the time, not knowing what I am supposed to be doing anymore. I am not even clear on who I am now, other than the Invisible Woman in #10.

And yet, there are some things of which I am certain.  Every day without fail, I know I have to make my bed. Every night I have to be sure there are no dirty dishes left in the sink. I wash my hair every day – when it isn’t even dirty. And I don’t wear a shirt that has a splotch of pasta sauce on it even if I am not leaving the house.   These are imperatives. Of these I am sure.  

Of course, I realize that nothing bad would happen if I didn’t do them. Who would know? Or care? I could sit in my Laz-E-Boy and write all day long if I wanted to, or solve Wordles, take a nap, eat vinegar-flavored kettle chips until my blood pressure flies off the chart. ( Well, no … not that last one, but still! )

I could totally let myself go, but I don’t, because although I have no personal belief whatsoever in the afterlife or in the spirit world, there is one more thing I know for sure – my mother is still with me, even though she died six years ago. And I don’t want to disappoint her. She believed it was okay to be unclear on life’s big picture, as long as you were kind and brave and kept things tidy. And sometimes that is enough.