III Word Wednesday
They sighed when they saw her coming, paint swatches in hand and rules under her arm. She did this a lot. She was not the “average cowgirl” the chairman said. She knew they dreaded her monthly visit to their meetings. She kept coming back because she loved every minute of their discomfort.
Average she always thought, was for wimps. She was not a wimp. Nothing else in her life had ever been average or wimpy. It was quite possible that she was not even normal. She didn’t know what average meant. Was average what most people did, not even taking into account that she was in the room. Did it mean that when she was a pain in the neck, she was discounted as immaterial. Was she the itch that they did not even want to scratch. She certainly hoped so. It would not be any fun if she didn’t make them squirm.
Meetings drove her crazy. But she loved the uproar enough to endure them. The way she saw it meetings took to long, she was not in control and people kept talking about what the average person would want in this or that situation. Her thinking was that ordinary was not a direction they should take. Let’s curve the road just a little she would say. Lets at least pass by the extraordinary, the unusual, the quirky and silly and fun!
There was no winning this…or any of the battles and she knew it. She was not going to be allowed to paint her house purple. It was either move or paint it sage green or blue…both colors that she hated. Average…she could not be average. Averageness was an itch she would not scratch and as far as she could tell, people that were average were a pain in the neck. She left looking sour and they knew she would be back…she just did not want to go along with the group, they said. They all sighed.