You don’t have to be crazy to behave strangely; at least I don’t think the old man is crazy.
When I walked my dog yesterday, I saw him at his house, about half a mile from our home. The house looks big and friendly enough, maintained, neat. No sign of neglect or craziness. No strange yard ornaments, funky house color, dilapidated yard, missing shingles, nor evidence of a broomstick or other signs that the person living there might be “different” in some obvious ways.
Also, the house is big, with a large backyard and a nice front yard, some steps, a landing, and a cement driveway leading to the garage.
… when I walked by,
the old man sat on a plastic chair in the middle of his driveway, reading a book.
He was not sitting in his comfortable living room, nor did he have a comfortable chair. He was not in his backyard, nor on the front lawn, and – did I mention it? – the weather wasn’t great, with black clouds moving in rapidly preceded by a stiff breeze.
And there he sat, white hair billowing around his head, calmly reading a book in the middle of his cemented driveway.
I tried to come up with a reason for his action, but couldn’t. Except maybe it was a Zen exercise – for his chair was pretty much centered in the driveway – or it had to do with some kind of magnetic fields. But he didn’t wear a colander on his head.