From the “random thoughts” category, I bring you a segment called “Dumb Stuff.” It’s nothing more than a “junk drawer” of things that have no real connection except at one point, they’ve all been part of my life … and like things in a junk drawer, sometimes I still use them.
“Be careful.”
Has there ever been a more obvious suggestion in the history of the universe? Two things on this: If I’m doing something––anything––and you feel the need to tell me to “be careful,” then you must view me as the biggest idiot you’ve met (which I might be) or you have nothing else to say to me. (Full disclosure: I fully understand why some of my movements and processes could compel someone to tell me to “Be careful.” That said, I think we can find a better, more “solution-based” comment.)
“Whatcha doin’?”
Now, if I’m on the phone with someone, or I’m just entering a room, this is a fine question because I really don’t know “what you’re doin’.” However, if I can see that my neighbor is shoveling mulch onto his flower beds, it’s really just small talk, and likely not welcomed because it will cause my neighbor to stop what he’s doing to engage me. Also, if you’re going to ask this question in such situations, expect the neighbor (or whomever is your target) to request your assistance on whatever he/she is “doin’.”
Burning the roof of my mouth
I do this ALL … THE … TIME. It’s especially true when I’m eating pizza, yet when one part of my brain says, “Hang on, big guy, let that cool a little bit before jumping in,” another part says, “To hell with that. Waiting is for suckers.” I ALWAYS listen to that part of my brain, and that, by definition, means I’m an idiot AND completely qualifies me to be the recipient of the “Be careful” directive. (Let the record reflect that I still hate the comment “Be careful.”)
I carry too many things at once
Yes, I do. And, at least sometimes, you do too. (Admit it.) And the carrying part is only the first half of this dumb thing. The second half is the frustration I’ll feel after I spill my coffee on my phone as I’m trying to pick up the car keys I dropped on the garage floor because I had them balancing on my wallet which was precariously placed on top of the small parcel Joanie asked me to return to the UPS Store and now, IT’S … ALL … ON … THE … GARAGE … FLOOR.
I eat too much
I like to eat. I’ve often said that you’ll know I’m awake because I’m 1) talking and 2) hungry and/or eating. I’ve gotten better over the years (maybe it’s just age catching up), but I can still eat––and overeat––if I want to. And, as you may well know, that usually doesn’t end well.
I take two steps at a time
As a younger person, with flexible joints, strong muscles, and no chronic pain, this was no problem. Now, I need to realize I’m not young anymore … nor, I’ve found, am I as tall as I used to be. (True story: my driver’s license reads 5’8”, and recently during a family “how tall are you really?” session, I was listed at 5’7”. Then, at my latest doctor visit, the nurse measured me at 5’6”. I jokingly protested, asking for a “re-measure,” and she stated flatly, “The ruler don’t lie.” So, from now on, the older, shorter me needs to climb stairs one at a time. I believe my head; my teeth and my wrists will thank me.
I use my teeth to open things
“Nuff said.
I could go, but I think you get the picture. I guess what I’m trying to say (to myself; far be it from me to tell you what to say or how to live your life), is this: “Stop doing and saying obviously stupid things.”
Now the question is, will I listen to myself? Maybe when I wake up every day, I should simply tell myself to “Be careful.” Crap, maybe it’s not such a stupid thing to say.
© 2025 David R. Haznaw
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