The hierarchy of idiots

“Boys. I shoveled the sidewalk and driveway and they’re covered again.”

That was my friend Jeff on IM late yesterday afternoon. His son had a play date – and the two boisterous boys undid all of his hard work clearing snow.

“Girls. You gotta love ‘em.” I replied.

“Until they’re fourteen. Then it’s all drama.”

“Right. A million dollars and I’d never be 14 again. No way,” I said.

Jeff disagrees: He’d go back if only to do things differently.

“Well, in that case sure I’d go,” I say. “And try to be less of an idiot.”

“I’d try to be more of an idiot. Relax more. Not worry about being embarrassed so much.”
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Apparently there are two types of people. All of us recovering idiots. And folks like Jeff who somehow managed to navigate the prime idiot years successfully.

Although I’m okay being in the recovering category.

I would much rather regret a Major Screw Up (or in my case, myriad Major Screw Ups) than be left wishing I had taken more chances.

Plus, the thing about being an idiot early on is, you never get the itch to let it all out later on. You get it outta your system.

So I suppose there's actually a hierarchy of idiots: The recovering idiots, the still-in-denial idiots, the late bloomer idiots, and the idiot wanna-bes.

Although anyone who regrets not being an idiot qualifies as an honorary idiot on some level, eh?
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I am listening to: Brandi Carlile – The Story
I am reading: Neil at the Sun-Times
And I am: Taking it one day at a time