In fact, although "normal" is a relative term, even today I think I'm textbook lunatic fringe.
Case-in-point: I've been married THREE times. A fact I am not proud of... although by today's standards, not so unusual. The unusual part is (and here's a little unsolicited insight into my marital past) in a cruel twist of irony, it would seem I was too mature for my first wife, and not mature enough for my second. WTF?!? Of course things have settled down, and this time, (as if I were some male modern-day version of Goldilocks) my maturity level is "just right." But the marriage fairy has made it clear she can completely screw me anytime she pleases.
Side note: Sticking with the nursery-rhyme theme, I think my current wife secretly wishes she were Rapunzel - and could chop off her locks and shimmy down from a window for a quick exit if she so desired.
Another somewhat abnormal aspect of my life is fatherhood. I have a daughter from my first marriage, but she's 2 hours away - so it's hard to thump her when she needs it. She is now (in a strange dicotomous world) the wonderful/dreadful age of 15. She's as beautiful/reprehensible as any Father could want or expect from an offspring. The wonder/torment she brings to my life is absolutely devine/loathesome. I have her 26 weekends a year, which is never/always enough. Isn't 15 a great/repugnant age?
And you want REAL abnormality? I didn't know my father until I was 32 - something I am still struggling to deal with. Oh sure, we're trying to catch up - but when I ask him to play catch in the yard, I AM THE ONE quitting early with the bad back. Plus I tire easily chasing after the ball. Though I must say, Dad really is making an effort to recapture lost experiences. The speakerphone long distance bedtime stories he tells are just... great - although they're usually paraphrased from the Wall Street Journal or some political blog - and peppered with his own Texan opinion (and a few curse words). Not good sleep-inducing material, but his efforts are appreciated. It's hard being a 40 year old kid.
And I won't even START with my unusual affinity for ovine.
So, look... next time you feel your life is strange, ask me for a pair of my shoes and take a little walk. Obviously my normalcy graph has more ups 'n' downs than Michael Jackson's wrist in a Chuck E. Cheese restroom.
And if you find a penny in the toe of one of the shoes - leave it. I need all the luck I can get.