I can’t figure out if I’m the sane one or the insane one here

My mother, who lives in a retirement home that, so far as I know, was built in the 1960s, tells me with great aplomb that her room was once occupied by WWII soldiers, and that one of her caregivers has been scolding her for daring to use an oxygen tank in a room that soldiers once used.

One of my clients asks me to research a legal issue to write a complaint, and is unperturbed when I inform him that the known facts in the case directly contradict the legal action.

Mr. Bookworm insists that the children watch TV with him, even though both are telling him that they have to finish their homework and go to bed.  “No, you need to watch TV with me.”

The Obama administration uses the entire weight of the executive branch of the federal government to mandate that religious organizations must subsidize the costs of birth control pills, sterilization, and abortifacients, and asserts that, by doing so, it is advancing freedom of religion under the First Amendment.

I spent a lot of time telling anyone who will listen that I’m surrounded by insane — or, at the very least, monomaniacal — people.  It’s beginning to occur to me, though, that I might be the problem.  If I’m at the center of a Venn diagram of insanity, maybe I’m the crazy one.

A joke:

As an old man was driving down the freeway, his car phone rang.

Answering, he heard his wife’s voice urgently warning him, “Herman, I just heard on the news that there’s a car going the wrong way on Route 280. Please be careful!”

“It’s not just one car,” said Herman, “It’s hundreds of them!”