LAST TUESDAY I IMAGINED MY LAPTOP WAS STOLEN. I came out of the grocery with my eggs, cheese, and French Roast to find the bag wasn’t in my car. Only after I made several panicky calls, cruised the vicinity for a perp, and stopped to report it at the police station did I grasp that I’d left it at home.
The depth of my delusion was breathtaking. I jumped to a far-fetched conclusion—teens! prowling the co-op lot! burgling soft-headed patrons too trusting to lock up!—when reality was much more plausible.
Competence and control are my stock-in-trade. I deliver what’s expected with no drama. I avoid risk and stick to routine. While I can overreact when things go wrong, I generally hold it together even when others can’t. It’s about the only part of the Male Archetype I’m good with.
And yet I lose my marbles. It’s an not an altogether unwelcome reminder. Steely reliability can’t last forever, and it’s hardly the most lovable gift a guy can be known for. On the eve of my 38th year, maybe it’s time I get in touch with my inner buffoon—worry less about self-possession and laugh more at my follies and false conceits. (While I still have a choice, right?)
This is something I made for my newest friend, Louis Royal Martin, age 1 month. Aside from my usual technical hackery, there’s a mismatched piece that now seems glaring. See it? How did I miss that? I’m losing my goddamned mind.