The other day I was in a restaurant with a man I don't know very well. As I looked around at all the pretty, happy people having dinner with their pretty, happy families I said to the man, "Sometimes I wish I was more normal."
"There's no such thing as normal," the man said.
"These people are all normal," I said. "Look at them. There's not a weird one in the bunch."
He scrutinized the pretty, happy people and their pretty, happy families. As I watched him I realized he also might be normal.
Eventually he turned back to me and gazed into my nut-brown eyes with his celadon-blue peepers.
"Normal is about stooping to the mean," he said.
He seemed to think his observation put the matter to rest, and we moved on to discussing the weather.