Dr. Carolyn Lee reflects on a different cliché each week. Recently, in her blog “Dress To Impress,” she reflects on our fashion choices. This week Carolyn explores the cliché, I just don’t get it.  

Learn more about Dr. Carolyn Lee on her biography page or investigate 29 more clichés in her latest book, Keep Your Eye on the Ball And Other Clichès to Live By. 

I Just Don’t Get It 

Maybe “I just don’t get it” isn’t a cliché in your house, but it is in mine because I say it an average of nine times a day. There just seems to be so much stuff that, for the life of me, I cannot understand. I’m not a stupid person. So why do I have such a long list of incomprehensibles? 

Take for instance . . . the stock market. If someone asked me to explain the stock market in the simplest terms, terms a third grader could understand, I’d have to ask to be excused, because I simply don’t get it. I know that it goes up and it goes down; that’s about it. I know that, when the stock market report on the evening news begins with “Investors were nervous today,” or “investors are jittery,” the stock market will plunge. My financial advisor tells me not to worry, because, in the long run, these ups and downs won’t make much difference, so I don’t. Do investors not know that? Are they just unusually anxious and paranoid? Or do they, perhaps, understand something about which I remain ignorant?   

There is very little that falls under the heading of technology that I understand. I have no idea why my phone needs to install updates every three days. I don’t know why I now need an app to go grocery shopping. I am baffled by the proliferation of requests for passwords and pin numbers from my laptop and why a password I used successfully last week is “invalid” this week. There are times, on a given day, when I’m shocked and impressed by the prowess of my smart-TV. But there are just as many occasions when, for no apparent reason, its inability to carry out the simplest of tasks makes me wonder about its I.Q. My Apple Watch is a mystery to me. This morning I walked from my front door to my mailbox, and my Watch congratulated me: “You’re crushing it, Carolyn!” 

Facebook raises all sorts of unanswered questions. Like what exactly is the appeal of scrolling through pictures of movie stars who have gained weight, had multiple plastic surgeries, and gotten old? Or do we never tire of feeding babies lemons and then watching their contorted faces as they experience “sour” for the first time? Or why do we want to see videos of cats knocking over Christmas trees or ripping sofa cushions to shreds? 

I’ve never quite understood why viewers laugh out loud at videos of people hurting themselves. You know, the bride in her wedding dress who walks too near the edge of the pool and falls in, the old man on a riding mower who loses control and runs into the side of a barn, and, of course, the classic, ever-popular guy at home plate who gets hit in the crotch with a fastball. I guess these are all “banana peel” jokes, and people have found them hilarious since the days of silent movies. I laugh, too, but . . . I don’t really get it. 

I don’t understand why, in the summer, all public buildings are freezing cold. I always wear long sleeves to a restaurant or a grocery store. Costco’s produce section requires a parka! The real mystery is that many of the other women in the store are wearing embarrassingly short shorts or strapless sundresses! My teeth are chattering, and they think it’s a day at the beach. 

I don’t understand why I can no longer see my primary care physician. She is available only for annual physicals and mid-year check-ups. Even getting in to see one of her assistants is a challenge. If I call in April, I might be able to get an appointment in September.  For a case of tennis elbow, I must go to the Hand and Shoulder Center. For back pain, I must consult an orthopedic physician. Kidney issues? A nephrologist. Digestive problems? A gastroenterologist. There seems to be no body part for which there is not a specialist. That’s a good thing, I guess. The trick is getting an appointment with one of them.  

Of all the things that puzzle me, it is the passage of time that I find most disturbing. I’m writing this on a Saturday evening. Yesterday was Monday. How can that be? Thursday is the day my trash bin is supposed to go out to the sidewalk. Unless I’m mistaken, Thursdays come about every thirty-six hours. And the years! Where on earth do they go? My darling, little two year-old nephew has become a six-foot-three guy with a shaved head and a bushy beard. How—and when—did that happen? An elderly woman stares back at me from my bathroom mirror. Her white hair is thinning, and her skin is sagging. Apparently, a lot of time has gone by since she was a young redhead. No, I don’t get it. I don’t even believe it!

Want to Read More? 

Check out Dr. Carolyn Lee’s blogs on her website, she features a new cliché each week or you can order her new book, Keep Your Eye on the Ball And Other Clichès to Live By. Want to know more about the woman behind the words? Read more about Carolyn here. We hope you enjoyed this article learning more about the cliché, I just don’t get it.