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Sanity. Is it really a thing or is it just how we police our behaviors into being “acceptable?” I think life can be a lot better when we just throw out this idea of sanity and let our uncensored selves go wild.

For example, at work this week, my sanity was trying SO HARD to escape. I think it started with all of my car doors freezing shut, and a time limit to get my car out of the parking lot because in one hour they would be towing and plowing. As a last resort I boiled up some water and got those damn doors open. It took me a long time to think of that, though, and I know it was not the smartest trick (see below). I would get my car out of that parking lot if it was the last thing I did! When I finally made it to work, I refused to consider the repeat possibility of frozen doors. I had to regroup and focus on work. But my sanity would have nothing of this “regrouping.” There were moments of extreme dancing to Christmas music and incoherent sentences that I thought were perfectly clear until I replayed them in my head. Not to mention we hardly had any customers due to the road conditions and weather, a repeat of what I endured the day before. When we are busy I go on autopilot and I’m like a machine- thank evolution for muscle memory! And boy (or girl) that is a rush. But not tonight. As the night inched along.

I think my sanity broke free (or I broke free from my sanity?) the moment I went on break. I started laughing to myself without being exactly sure why. Then, the singing started. I was eating apples and peanut butter, so, naturally I added a tune, and “Apples and Peanut Butter” was a break out hit on the charts. Who says sanity and productivity go hand in hand? I stocked the crap out of our store that night, regardless of my loss of sanity.

It was a brief, shining moment, where I enjoyed ditching my sanity out the window. Unfortunately, after we closed, I had to return to the reality of my car. It was much colder. The sun had long since left the sky. And the doors gave me a great big “fuck you” as none of them would open. I kicked and pounded the door  that seemed the most willing to budge, to no avail. My coworker and I went to the neighbor (also a coworker) to ask for some hot water, but I had no success at the frigid temperatures. So, I called my parents as a last resort, and my dad came out with a crowbar and some screw drivers. Before he arrived I spent about 15 minutes kicking and beating the doors in a last ditch effort to get those suckers to open. I even tried going through the trunk and pushing the seats down (pause for a second to picture that, and please note that I kept one foot outside the trunk for fear of it closing me in). In the end, the crowbar (and my father) saved the day and I got in. As I started the car and my father turned to leave I asked, “Will you be needing your crowbar anytime soon?” The reply I received was laughter. My dad just laughed at me. “Do you think you’ll need it again?” My immediate response was “Yes, yes I do.” So, with my trusty crowbar, I drove off into the night. To get home so I could let my roommate into the apartment, because she had lost her keys somewhere. (This only added urgency to the necessity of getting my car open.)

Now, I have a crowbar in my trunk. And my sanity has found the revolving door in my brain. And my productivity doesn’t come out to play as much as I’d like. Is it time for hibernation yet?

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