Why is it?
We live in a quirky, weird, sideways, upside-down world where some things just don't make sense - or they make too much sense to be sensible. As humans we often perpetuate the nonsense. We accept things for what they are and go about our business without question. But sometimes I wonder. About small things. Big things. Random things like:
Why do cats have to race you up the stairs? They can come out of nowhere just to get one step ahead of you. Sometimes my cats pause to let me nearly catch up before bounding upwards to beat me. Again.
When shopping online why are we required to put certain items in our cart in order to see their price while other items have their prices posted prominently?
If it's a seedless watermelon, what did it grow from?
Why do we call them red cabbage and red onions when it's obvious they are purple? Red grapes are more burgundy than red. Purple potatoes are actually purple - score one for the spuds.
When the batteries on the TV remote go dead why do we continue to press the power button over and over hoping they will suddenly come to life? The same phenomenon occurs when our cell phone loses its charge. Ditto that for the computer mouse. Change the AAs, already.
Have you ever noticed that abbreviated is an awfully long word? And big is not?
Other words are worth contemplating - phonetically speaking. Gynecologist is a doctor for women. Hysterectomy is a procedure performed solely on women. Hershey is word made up of two female pronouns coming together to make chocolate. I guess that last one makes perfect sense.
In the same vein, if words like "he" and "she" are pronouns, does that also make them anti-verbs?
Why do we call it the funny bone when bumping it is certainly no laughing matter?
When I am driving somewhere and get lost why do I turn the radio off thinking it will help me find my destination?
Why do people drive around in convertibles with the top down, but the windows up?
Do they call it falling asleep because of the falling dream that sometimes accompanies the going to sleep process? Is it true you would die if you landed (in your dream) or is that just one of those urban myths?
Who makes up all the urban myths and why aren't they ever rural truths?
Is it possible to eat charred chard? Or chilly chili? Shrimpy shrimp?
If words made sense, hamburger would be made of ham and a hot dog would be made of... Never mind.
Shouldn't a pair of pants be two of something?
Why is it always just one shoe (or boot) lying in the middle of the road, but we never see the person who is walking around with the other one?
Every few years we are required to renew our driver's license. Anyone besides me keep the old ones around lying in the junk drawer - just because? Every so often I glance through them to see how much I used to weigh.
Why is it? I wish I could tell you. Some things deny explanation. It's at the core of the human paradigm; we assume logic in an illogical world.
Sort of like my cat. Who won't come when she's called but will race me up the stairs every time. Go figure.
- Jill Pertler's column appears Thursdays in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
We live in a quirky, weird, sideways, upside-down world where some things just don't make sense - or they make too much sense to be sensible. As humans we often perpetuate the nonsense. We accept things for what they are and go about our business without question. But sometimes I wonder. About small things. Big things. Random things like:
Why do cats have to race you up the stairs? They can come out of nowhere just to get one step ahead of you. Sometimes my cats pause to let me nearly catch up before bounding upwards to beat me. Again.
When shopping online why are we required to put certain items in our cart in order to see their price while other items have their prices posted prominently?
If it's a seedless watermelon, what did it grow from?
Why do we call them red cabbage and red onions when it's obvious they are purple? Red grapes are more burgundy than red. Purple potatoes are actually purple - score one for the spuds.
When the batteries on the TV remote go dead why do we continue to press the power button over and over hoping they will suddenly come to life? The same phenomenon occurs when our cell phone loses its charge. Ditto that for the computer mouse. Change the AAs, already.
Have you ever noticed that abbreviated is an awfully long word? And big is not?
Other words are worth contemplating - phonetically speaking. Gynecologist is a doctor for women. Hysterectomy is a procedure performed solely on women. Hershey is word made up of two female pronouns coming together to make chocolate. I guess that last one makes perfect sense.
In the same vein, if words like "he" and "she" are pronouns, does that also make them anti-verbs?
Why do we call it the funny bone when bumping it is certainly no laughing matter?
When I am driving somewhere and get lost why do I turn the radio off thinking it will help me find my destination?
Why do people drive around in convertibles with the top down, but the windows up?
Do they call it falling asleep because of the falling dream that sometimes accompanies the going to sleep process? Is it true you would die if you landed (in your dream) or is that just one of those urban myths?
Who makes up all the urban myths and why aren't they ever rural truths?
Is it possible to eat charred chard? Or chilly chili? Shrimpy shrimp?
If words made sense, hamburger would be made of ham and a hot dog would be made of... Never mind.
Shouldn't a pair of pants be two of something?
Why is it always just one shoe (or boot) lying in the middle of the road, but we never see the person who is walking around with the other one?
Every few years we are required to renew our driver's license. Anyone besides me keep the old ones around lying in the junk drawer - just because? Every so often I glance through them to see how much I used to weigh.
Why is it? I wish I could tell you. Some things deny explanation. It's at the core of the human paradigm; we assume logic in an illogical world.
Sort of like my cat. Who won't come when she's called but will race me up the stairs every time. Go figure.
- Jill Pertler's column appears Thursdays in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
