Three Visceral Reactions

The classic internal conflict (along with the liver vs. kidney) is reason vs. instinct. How we think we should react to something is not always consistent with our knee-jerk reaction.

(Aren't you glad that you read this blog? This otherwise might never have come to your attention, and your left liver might be in trouble, too.)

Whether it was because of a lack of sleep, oxygen deprivation due to excessive luchador mask wearing, or because my monthly cycle is starting to get locked in with all of my female roomies, I seemed especially susceptible to unreasonable thoughts today. In fact, I had three overreactions based on my baser instincts. Let's examine them, shall we?

1. Orange juice purchase. I was at the grocery store today and I put a large jug of OJ into my shopping cart and I felt irrationally exhuberant. (It was like I thought past performance was a indicator of future success... a vitamin c bubble. OK. Enough with this tangent.) There are few things in this world that I like better than waking up in the middle of the night, moseying out to my fridge, and drinking a glass of orange juice. I always like orange juice, but I love it in the middle of a thirsty night, and for some reason all of that pent-up love came spewing out all over the southeast corner of the local Safeway.
2. Tailgating bicyclist. I don't mind bicyclists. I don't mind old dudes with ridiculous yellow helmets perched atop their gray ponytailed noggins. I don't even mind a combination of the two. Where I, evidently, draw the line? It's when that guy is stopped at a light, six inches behind a car, and when that car has its blinker on because it's trying to back up to parallel park. The bicyclist appeared to be willfully ignorant... maybe he didn't see the blinker, or maybe he was upset with the driver for being less-than-bicyclist-friendly at some previous juncture. In any case? My lizard brain shot endorphins through my body and I wanted to put on my e-brake, pop my trunk, and bludgeon the old dude with any sort of bludgeon-capable item I might have had in my trunk.
3. Juggling cheese and knives. I was in my kitchen, preparing an intricate dinner of chicken parmesan sandwiches. The dinner has three primary elements: hamburger buns, swiss cheese (pre-sliced) and chicken parmesan (frozen and eminently microwavable). I had a knife in hand to slice open the package of cheese slices, when I slipped. The knife and the newly-sliced-open package of cheese went flying in opposite directions. One of the things I prize about myself is my ability to paint Warhammer miniatures. Another, more relevant, thing is my hand-eye coordination. Instinctively, I reached out for the knife... but reason won out, reminding my instincts that I do not have medical insurance. Why my reason didn't also remind my instincts that cheese does not tend to cause much damage when grasped I cannot say, but the knife and cheese hit the kitchen floor at the same time, with the knife taking a chunk out of the linoleum (better than my palm) and the cheese being instantly covered by whatever nasty stuff comprises the film on my kitchen floor. I stood there, altogether still, staring at the floor, for about 10 seconds and then I started giggling. I continued to laugh even as I washed the affected cheese and cutlery.

The lesson of the day? I think there are two. First of all, I think I need more than four hours of sleep. Secondly? You might want to visually inspect dairy products before eating them at my place...