I'm World Class, Baby!

I have finally figured out what I'm better at than anyone else in the world.


Are you ready for this?


I am a first-class, elite-level, totally phemomenal...


Underachiever.


Oh, yes. If I knew how to do bar graphs in Blogger, I'd make one to illustrate my potential versus my actual acheivement. I imagine it would look something like if you built a mud hut next to the Chrysler Building and then asked, "All right. Who nailed it?"


Me=mud hut. Almost always.


Here's the thing. I have moments, measured by flashes in the pan, of greatness. Tiny little discrete instances in which I accomplish spectacular things. My father's eulogy. A couple of stellar scenes of dialogue. A perfect jambalaya.


Those were some of those moments. 


But mostly I am a three-toed sloth in a herd of cheetahs, distinguished only by my total lack of engagement with all the things that matter: dishes, dinner-making, grocery shopping. Et cetera. Et cetera. Forever, amen.


There is a suitcase on my living room floor. It took me about four days to empty it, an armful at a time every time I went upstairs at which point I deposited at least half of what I schlepped up on the first available surface that may or may not have had any discernible relationship to where said pile of crap actually belonged. And three days later, the suitcase is still on my living room floor. I have no idea why.
I was feeling pretty bad about my underachieving until I realized that every skill we've been given, including this most unusual talent of mine, can be used for the greater good.


So I now officially invite all of you to drop by my house without warning whenever you need to feel better about yourselves. When I answer the door mid-afternoon still in my pajamas to reveal a living room strewn with toys and food wrappers, and one of my children crawls up to you wearing nothing but a diaper that's sort of almost all the way on, and the other runs out with his underpants on his head screaming, "Look at my stupid hat!", I promise you . . . your self-esteem will immediately improve. It's almost magical.


If you are allowed to see my kitchen, you will be mildly disgusted but feel like a superhuman.


Also, my underacheivement increases in direct proportion to the heat. It's over 90 today. Come on by. You'll feel amazing when you leave.