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Crazy D left on an adventure a few days ago. He’ll be working on a well-known reality television show, one that traverses the globe, for a month. One of the interesting things I’ve learned about him, since living in our current flat-share arrangement (me, L’il Sis and Crazy D), is the amount of organization his job requires.

Now if you recall, Crazy D is called Crazy for a reason. His personal life is chaotic at best. The most permanent ‘storage place’ for his wardrobe is the huge plastic laundry buckets that are dotted around his room and the house. His ‘important papers’ (tax receipts, etc.) are housed in old milk crates…when they’re not dumped in a pile on the antique cabinet in our front hall. When he has to spend the night in the big city for work, he sleeps in a hammock in his ‘man cave’ in an old warehouse. Yup, livin’ the dream. He looks forward this summer to ‘cozying up’ the man cave…so he feels a bit less like a hobo when he’s there. Perhaps upgrading to a futon. Wait a minute, didn’t he ditch his student futon twenty years ago?  The more things change, the more they stay the same. Or regress. Believe me when I say his job demands every bit of organizational skill his body can muster.

He spent days before his departure packing and re-packing his technical equipment. It has to be done precisely and in such a way that the other people on the crew can take over at a moment’s notice if need be…say, if Crazy D falls off a cliff, gets sucked down a sinkhole, or falls from a scaffold on the side of a building. Of course my question, as a caring and concerned mother, is not ‘who will take over his job?’ but ‘who will rescue my poor kid and take care of him?’ Oh, well…no room for motherly concerns on this trip.  And since secrecy is of utmost importance on this gig, I have no idea where he’s going in the world. Or if he speaks the language. Or if he knows enough about the local customs to keep him out of trouble…or at least out of jail. (Perhaps I should change some money into several foreign currencies just as a precautionary measure should he need bail money on short notice.) Or if he packed his long johns. Judging by the tiny pack of clothes he’s carrying (not much bigger than a fanny pack), I’d guess that’s a no. I may have to hose the stink off him before I allow him back in the house.

I received a terse email from The Wanderer the day after he left. All it said was:”Landed — in the land of mystery. Ground transport from here”…I picture yak, sherpa, dogsled, herd of elephants, tuk-tuks…who knows with Crazy D?

I told Gill of his safe arrival ‘somewhere’, and she was nonplussed. “Oh, my little brother! Of course nobody knows where he is or what he’s doing. ‘Twas ever thus…even as a kid, we didn’t know what he was doing. Now it’s just gotten worse. He’s the only person I know who could turn such a random lifestyle into a well-paying, always exciting job.”

“It’s true,” I acknowledged. “Well, if he turns up in your neck of the woods, tell him I said hi. Oh, and although I sent his tax stuff to the accountant via courier and emailed Crazy D to tell him so, apparently he didn’t receive my email. So tell him all is fine. Good thing there’s an extension this year because of that Heartbleed bug. I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d accuse him of having something to do with the bug just to buy himself more time…except that he doesn’t know enough about computers to do it. He just screams at them when things go wrong.”

I continued, amazed: “Would you believe his accountant tracked him down by phone? Clearly the accountant didn’t care where he is. Crazy D could have been in a jungle, at The South Pole, on a leaky boat in shark-infested waters for all we know. Only guy I know whose accountant is looking for him when he hasn’t broken the law. I guess the guy is a good accountant…at least he’s persistent. They make a good pair. But knowing Crazy D, he’ll come out smelling like roses. On second thought, perhaps not roses with the one change of clothes for a month.”

“Well, Ma, at least your children provide you with lots of fodder for cocktail party stories and your writing…I’d better get moving. I’ve been slacking off in that department. I’ll have a lot to do to catch up with Crazy D’s antics.”

“Not to worry. I have a feeling his stories will keep me going for months. I am indeed fortunate to have such generous children. Always sharing with their mother…”