Six weird things about me...

Or how I started to write these out and realized that I'm a freak.

I was tagged a long time ago by Pam and Snow Wonder to list 6 weird things about me. And since I can’t write about work and I won’t write about my dipshit of an STBX and the divorce, I guess I can list 6 weird things. Or I can narrow down my list to 6. Or perhaps I have to scrounge to find 6. Your call.

In no particular order:

1. I am not fond of water… in my face. I don’t swim. And I will take a bath over a shower, and when I take a shower, I would prefer NOT to face the showerhead. A towel is always nearby to wipe off errant droplets. I am not a freak. I just never learned to put my face in water. I don’t want to hear any crap about it either. On my agenda for this my 50th year is TAKE SWIMMING LESSONS.
2. I have triskadeskaphobia. Fear of the number 13. Again, I don’t wanna hear any crap out of your guys. I do not like Friday the 13th, but I am not frozen in my seat that day. I often forget it’s that day until some dipwad brings it up and then it’s not pretty. I had one child on the 10th of the month and the other one on the 16th, clearly 3 days either side of the 13th. And no, nothing bad has ever happened to me on Friday the 13th (except for that one in ’78 when I saw a dog get hit by a car right in front of me, but I was weird long before that). I moved to my new place on Saturday the 14th of October because there was no way I was going to move on Friday the 13th. If anything bad had happened, it would have been because of that. This year I will be flying on Friday the 13th so I guess I better get over it. Not happy. Pray for me. Pray for the pilot. Pray for the plane.
3. I don’t do seeds. I don’t do seedy fruit. Is this a phobia? Seedaphobia? Now because it is not recognized by the APA, it has provisions. For instance, I like bananas, and people give me crap that they have seeds. Not visible seeds. Strawberries are way off limits except in daquiries. I don’t bite into peaches or plums. I cut apples into sections. I’m just now believing that seedless grapes actually have no seeds. (For years I didn’t really believe the advertisement.) Navel oranges are the best invention. And don’t give me a piece of watermelon until you take out all the seeds so, yes, I have to wait a while before I eat watermelon. None of this makes sense. It’s all in my head. I have nothing on which to base this fear. I have one sister with the same phobia so perhaps it’s hereditary to which I have no control.
4. I cannot kiss anyone in the morning without first brushing my teeth. Of course, that hasn’t been a problem during my marriage. There was no kissing. But it could be an issue in the future. At least, I’m hoping.
5. I put silverware in the dishwasher according to type. All forks in a compartment, all spoons. Well, you get the idea. And all utensils a placed in the compartment facing up as a friend of my daughter’s taught me. He washed dishes in a restaurant so I consider him a professional. This also encouraged the kid to help put the dishes away because they could just grab a whole grouping and put them in the right place. Clever, huh? You may borrow my idea.
6. I have to read a newspaper in order. The best Christmas gift I got this year was a subscription to the St. Louis Post Dispatch to be delivered to my new place (120 miles away). I love reading the paper, and I am fine with sharing the paper. But I have to read it in the right order. Don’t hand me the “Everyday” portion and expect me to read it before the “Metro” section, or, God forbid, anything is read before the news section. Is this weird?
7. I’m one of those weird people who reads death notices. (Which are different than obits. Do you want the lesson now or later?) I don’t read all of them. I just peruse. In my defense, one of my volunteer jobs at my former church was to send birthday cards and anniversary card to the “old” people at my church, and I didn’t always get notified when they died. It’s never good to send a birthday card to a dead person, and it is devastating to send an anniversary card to a couple when one of them is dead. So I don’t want to hear any crap from y’all. But I do love reading whether a person “walked into Heaven’s gate,” passed into God’s care,” “passed peacefully in the arms of Jesus,” or “fell asleep with Jesus.” I am wondering what mine will read.
8. I was not allowed to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as a child and, therefore, did not have one until I was an adult. Nummy. My mother insisted that they did not go together and only allowed peanut butter and mayonnaise (Miracle Whip) sandwiches. And before you say “Eewwwww,” don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.
9. And while we’re on the subject of things not allowed, I was not allowed to have Barbie dolls. I didn’t whine much about it. We were poor and once my Mother’s foot was put down about something, we rarely bugged her. Her reasoning, and I can totally understand it, was that she sewed clothes for her 4 daughters and she wasn’t about to sew clothes for that tiny emaciated waif. Can’t blame her. In turn, I did not allow my daughters to have Barbies but for a totally different reason. I was not going to allow my daughters to have a doll that had better housing and cars than I did. On a political level, I did not want to subject my children to those skinny bitches who had nothing better to do than drive a Porsche and stand on those unbearably uncomfortable heels all day. Like their mother, my daughters never balked (although some of their friends thought they were weird). My friends did not think it weird. I was not allowed to have any friends come to the house since we were living in (OH DEAR GOD) a divorced house. Subsequently, my 40th birthday was celebrated with Barbies all over the place. Naked Barbies. Wonder what these friends will do for my 50th???
10. Finally, my last one isn’t so weird. It’s a puzzlement. In my new life I am discarding much of my old underwear. Losing 50 lbs and starting a new life will do that to a person. Now here’s where it gets weird. The granny panties and underwear with holes or rips are going in the trash. But do I throw them away when they are clean and in my drawer? Or do I wear them one more time and throw them out afterwards? And is it weird that I am worried that the garbage man is going through the garbage and finding my discarded granny panties in either condition?