Mrs. Grouch and I were riding one morning when a guy in a pick up truck, headed the other way, yelled "You're crazy."
I'm still trying to figure out if he meant "good crazy" cool or "bad crazy" mentally ill. Mrs. Grouch and I decided that, since it was the two of us together, it had to be "good crazy".
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My greatest fear is all of my kids standing around my coffin and talking about "how sensible" dad was.