Crazy is an English word that has come to cover a wide area of meaning. It may be used as a pejorative, a description, or just to indicate something different, unusual or unexpected. I have had experience with people who were referred to as crazy but in reality they were just unusual. Then again, I have had experience with unusual people that acted in a crazy manner.
One job I went to was a complex of six apartments located above a store. When the second story was converted to apartments, care was not taken to assure that each apartments wiring was satisfactorily separated and individualized from the other apartments. For instance, some devices in “Apt. A” were on the circuit for “Apt.B”, and vice-versa and etc., etc., etc. Additionally some of the devices were not working. The apartments were all occupied by older single women.
One of the women, sometime in the past, had acquired a chair that she later decided she didn’t want. Each of the ladies spent their time trying to sneak the chair into someone else’s apartment. Why they didn’t just throw the thing out a window and get rid of it, I’ll never know. I didn’t understand; it was crazy.
There was an open scuttle hole in the hall between the apartments. I got my ladder, climbed up, reached into the hole and pulled on a wire. The lights went off in one apartment and on in another. Well, that was crazy.
I got a trouble light and crawled up into the attic. With the light on I could see, scattered all around the open scuttle hole, used feminine products. How crazy is that. Leaving the area of the scuttle hole I discovered the wiring had not been properly distributed to the correct meters. The wiring was not in good working condition and I could not leave the building with the wiring in a dangerous state. I told myself that many people have to work in non-pristine conditions, and I safed up the wiring before I left.
I also remember another older lady, living alone in a house, where children passing by, to and from school, would throw rocks at her as they passed. She was quite sane, and she and I used to have interesting conversations, but she would do some strange things.
The first time I came to her house, she answered the door with her hands covered in blood. No. No need for CSI. She had been butchering and dressing out chickens. That wasn’t crazy.
I recall another lady that lived with her children. (There were 2 or 3.) When she would open the door, the odor coming out the door would knock your hat off.
One day one of the other guys was working at her house and I needed to get something out of his pick-up. I went to the house and knocked on the door. The electrician came to the door and I asked him about the item in his truck. He said that he would come out and get it for me.
I said; “Just tell me where it’s at and I’ll get it.”
“No. I’ll get it for you.”
As we walked to the truck he said; “I had to get outside and get some fresh air.”
I replied that I was glad he got that job, not me.
Waylon said, and my boy David sings it so I know it’s true; “I’ve always been crazy, but it’s kept me from going insane.”