It is my firm opinion that normality is an illusion. We all strive to get there, or fight against it, each in our own way. What is normal for each is unique. And the customs of setting and time frame changes its definition. Culture and fashion can also set the bar on what is considered the norm. And that changes from moment to moment nowadays.
The image of normal family life once upon a lifetime ago was the Cleaver's, but evolved over time into the Connor's, which gives me something realistic to live up to. My childhood family resembled the first more closely than the last. But my own family has more in common with the latter. The transition happened gradually so it feels normal.
What is done in comfort, without hurting others is as normal as it gets. If I could not in comfort do the same, all that really means is that it is not my normal. Each person is different. Every home and its occupants vary in some way. Lumping all together and setting a common normal is the same thing as making a one size fits all outfit and expecting it to really fit everyone.
This post was written as proof that I have an opinion on everything. And also that I can write on demand. As a writer this practice is invaluable to my quest. Tackled as a challenge, it proved impossible to concentrate on any other subject until this one was conquered. Deep thinking about the ordinary, while struggling not to be predictable, goes a long way toward making me abnormal, which is my normal.