(Keep reading. This gets more interesting...). It’s mostly composed of gecko droppings, beetle carcasses, and flying insect remains. Every morning one of us sweeps off the counters, tables, window sills, stairs, etc. and every morning the other one finds a way to stand in this nicely arranged pile of dirt before it goes out the front door. (I suppose my attempt to make this anonymous is futile. You can probably guess who fulfills which of these roles).
One morning after I had swept up, Neil came downstairs, walked straight to the pile of dirt, stood in it, and walked back upstairs to finish whatever he was doing. No words. No explanation. No purpose. Nothing. Upon his return downstairs I questioned him about this very odd and slightly irritating behavior. To his credit, he acknowledged that it was both odd and mostly likely very irritating (what a good spouse). He then continued with a rather intriguing argument: “I can’t help it”, he explained, “I’m…I’m like Superman. He has superpowers. I have superpowers. He can fly really fast and jump over tall buildings and lift up heavy objects. Me? I can find dirt…anywhere.” Now, it is true that Neil has an uncanny knack for finding dirt (as partly evidenced by our morning routine and the height of our weekly laundry pile). And he testifies that, like Superman, he has been this way since he was a kid. For example, he would always be the dirtiest one on the soccer field. People would ask: “Neil, why are you so dirty?” He would only shrug his shoulders and reply: “I don’t know.”
Now, perhaps Neil has something here. We don’t ask why Superman has his powers, he just does. But what about the functionality of those superpowers? I can see the usefulness of flying at speeds not known to man, of being bullet-proof, or of being able to put out fires or freeze water with your breath. But what is the purpose of being able to find piles of dirt? “Well, let’s just consider this:” Neil responded quickly, proving that he still retains more than his fair share of impromptu skills, “suppose a child is sweeping up some dirt around a well. This well happens to be made of lead." (Don't ask why or what the health/environmental repercussions are of having a lead well). "Now," Neil reasons, "the child trips somehow, and falls into this well. Superman can’t see through lead, but I can find dirt. So, someone who knew the child was last seen sweeping dirt could just call me. I would come, find the pile of dirt, and locate the child in the well ultimately saving his or her life.”
Surprisingly, I follow his logic, but must make an important clarification: “Doesn’t Superman have super-hearing? Couldn’t he hear the child in the well?" Neil thinks about it for only a moment and replies: “Yes. You’re right. Good point. So, Superman and I are the only ones who could save the child…unless, of course, Superman had a nasty head-cold that day. Then it’s all up to me.”
Well, (no pun intended) I'm convinced.
1 comment:
I knew Neil and Cooper were kindred spirits I just never knew exactly why. Now I do! I don't know about piles of dirt, but no matter where he is dirt just seems to jump out of nowhere and adhere to Cooper somewhere. This weekend at my grandma's b-day party we weren't there 5 mintes and both his knees were dirty and he had a koolaid mustache that went from his chin to his forehead! How is that possible? Perhaps Neil needs a superhero sidekick? Cooper the Wonder Boy (as in you wonder how he managed to get dirty)!!
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