Ever since coming to New York, I can thoroughly say I’ve become more childlike. The other day as I unpacked my lunch – apples and peanut butter, slices of pepper and carrots, and Goldfish – that many of my meals have turned into what most kids would consider “snack time.”
I’ve often been compared to an old man because I get really excited at animals like buffleheads (see last post), dress poorly, and go to bed early, but all of these stereotypically elderly things are also stereotypical childish. Being grumpy? Yeah, kids do that well. Inability to dress oneself? Mhm. Going to bed earlier than intended because you got unexpectedly sleepy? Greg, you are basically eight.
Given my apparent reversion into elementary school, I would like to highlight some things I could do as I kid I would like to be able to do again:
Fit in cabinets
Eat bags of candy without feeling sick
Be encouraged to take daily naps
Talk to myself and have it be proof that I’m creative and not just proof of my impending insanity
Say inappropriate things and be told that it’s cute*
*Note: as a gay man you sort of get to do this. Like, when a gay man calls a woman a “Stupid b!#$*” it’s considered sassy, witty, and primetime sitcom fun!
Tonight, as I was lounging about, wearing my plaid robe and smoking my pipe (I’m very classy), thinking of what my next blog post would be about, something exciting happened. Something I will now tell you, without embarrassment.
I was lounging, as I explained, when my father burst out of the rest room, his face pale and gaunt. At first I was worried the zombie apocalypse was finally hitting Montana and not just the east coast as he stumbled to his bed, and here I was with my shotgun out of reach and not even wearing my knickers. However, as he lurched down the hall, clinging to the wall for support and weakly asking me to help him, I realized he was not a zombie but was actually just suffering from a bad flu. This was a reassurance; I could help a victim of influenza. Nurse Greg to the rescue!