Usually these types of posts are titled “Ten Weird Things” but none of these things are that weird. At least i don’t think so.
1.) I am a complete and utter baby about the dentist. I hate going. I hate them fiddling with my teeth. It’s about all i can do to keep from slapping their hands away as they approach me. I’ve been know to cry after a teeth cleaning. But that was a long time ago, really.
2.) I like to bring home pretty leaves in the fall. I can’t resist picking them up and bringing them into the house, where they wither up and become fodder for the vacuum cleaner.
3.) I can’t tell right from left without thinking about it each and every time. I’ll tell the Mister to “Turn left here. No, NO the OTHER left!” Now i use “your way” or “my way” in the car to avoid this embarrassing lack of knowledge.
4.) Whenever i walk, i cross two of the fingers on my right hand. This is a totally unconscious habit. When i notice that i am doing it, i uncross my fingers, but it feels weird.
5.) I live in the heart of latte land, yet i don’t drink coffee. I often get a shocked reaction, “YOU DON’T DRINK COFFEE?” accompanied by a look of complete incomprehension. I love the way coffee smells, and i love coffee ice cream or candy, but to me coffee tastes nasty.
6.) I have many freckles. I grew up in the era when sunscreen was either zinc oxide, or non-existent. We used to lie in the sun with baby oil smeared all over our pale bodies. I think baby oil is SPF minus 5. My mother used to try and convince me that my spots were angel kisses. It didn’t work, but i like them now.
7.) I can’t sleep with any part of my body hanging over the side of the bed. I think about those stupid ghost stories from slumber parties and i can almost feel a deranged man licking my fingers or toes.
8.) I am a dreadful typist. I use one finger on my left hand, and three on my right hand. This is because i don’t have independent movement of the fingers on my left hand due to a tragic childhood accident involving a fishbowl and a laundry sink, followed by five hours of surgery, two weeks in the hospital and six months of physical therapy. The only upside is that due to the surgery my lifeline on my left hand goes halfway to my elbow. I’m going to be one old bat.
The Mister and Em both type fast enough to ignite the keyboard. They cannot bear to watch my labored pecking. “Let me do that,” Em says, and then grabs the keyboard away from me. I make lots of typos. Forgive me.
9.) I can’t count.