Too Dumb to Live

I'm no dum-dum, but I ain't no Steven Hawking neither. A particularly memorable dishwashing affair comes to mind. Nine year old Nick is in the kitchen working over some dishes. That evening several gallon-size Ziploc bags were used in the preparation of dinner. My Dad thinks that spagetti sauce is like wine. He will make the sauce a day or two in advance in order to let the spices mingle. He swears by the method. The legitimacy of his claim not withstanding, a half dozen freezer bags are in front of me. Seemed like a waste to just throw them away. So I washed them. Trouble is, freezer bags aren't really meant to be reused. They tend to trap things inside them. It's kind of their thing. I get the silly idea that I could wedge a fork inside the bags to help them dry properly.

Hours later my Dad sees my Ziploc tents. He laughs at my campground and says, "Nick, that's ingenious," and pats me on the head.

I sulk dejectedly out of the room. It wasn't until years later that I learned that "ingenious" is a synonym for "genius" and not the antynom I had assumed it was. Shouldn't it mean the opposite of genius? What the shit? If he had said, "Nick, you're indecisive" one would reasonably assume that he meant that I was lacking in decisiveness. Hence, "ingenious" ought to mean "lacking or without genius".

Why would you do this to me, English!? Your inconsistencies cost me valuable paternal praise during my formative years. Three things stuck out to me about this experience: (i) I would make it a point to study the meanings of words (ii) my Dad loves and respects me and (iii) I'm both bright and kinda dim.