Color Crazy

I answered the door without looking outside or using my blink camera. At least I had pants on this time I opened the door for a stranger. An enthusiastic young man was canvassing for votes for his particular brand of politician. I told him I could only vote for liberals or crazy people, and given that they’re usually inhabiting the same body, that I appreciated his enthusiasm.

Even though we were at different ends of the political spectrum, he told me that the outside of my apartment was one of the most interesting and vibrant he’s seen in a long time. I told him that I appreciated that. And that Redactyl did not think it had enough color. The canvasser raised an eyebrow, wondering who that might be. I pointed to my decorated dinosaur on the railing. Without missing a step, the young man said he could not tolerate taciturn dinosaurs. We both laughed.

He asked me if the fence was my doing. I asked him what made him think that might be the case. He laughed and said that his canvassing partner took a picture of it when they drove in. He added that he did not expect anything like that in the apartments.

Isn’t that the surprise of life, I replied.

Indeed it is, he said, and told me that he wished he had an hour to ask me a bunch of questions. Come back sometime and we’ll have a cup of buttermilk and talk about it then, I quipped.

I did not ask the darn dinosaur what his opinion of that scenario might be.

When I drove away and looked up at my apartment, I laughed again, seeing it with new eyes. That places like mine and fences that surround it aren’t all adorned in such a wild and unexpected manner is the crux of the problem. Why choose banality or normalcy when most of us secretly know that we’re all crazy.

Love, X

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