everyone has some quirks, I think. I hadn't really given much thought to mine until my friend, the oh so lovely poppy, tagged me with this:
idiosyncracy: structural or behavioral characteristic peculiar to an individual or group. write down five of your idiosyncracies. then, if you wish, tag five people. so here we go:
1. when I sweep, I have a tendency to leave little piles of dust in various corners of different rooms. ward has titled these my 'non-committal' piles and they have caused many an agitated state. I don't know why I don't finish the job. something about the act of walking back into the utility room to get the dust pan, sweep up the mess and carry it precariously to the trash can. I always think that I'll get around to it. and another excuse I love to throw at ward from time to time: marriage is a partnership! we work together! I willfully leave these piles, testing the strength and truth of our love. ha.
2. I have become incredibly strange about my personal space at the movie theatre. I like to have many seats between myself and the other movie-goers. I can handle myself in a sold-out flick where I have no choice but to cozy up to complete strangers in the dark, but when I'm sitting in a theatre that's half-full and some clueless good-time johnny plops himself down right in front of me (or beside me, or behind me)... well, me no like. people, why? you have the entire theatre. I need to put my feet up, stretch and not feel all creepy. I have been known to let out an exasperated sigh, uproot my entire movie posse and relocate.
3. I get really excited when I have the exact change to pay for something. ward doesn't understand why I go to great lengths to pull pennies (often one at a time) out of my black fuzzy coin purse. handing over $2.31 IN EXACT CHANGE to the bored-looking teenager at the drive-thru window at mcdonald's fills me with a sense of satisfaction that I cannot explain. and refuse to defend.
4. I have no tolerance for overhead lighting in my home. we walk into a room, ward flips the switch and it's as if a thousand freakish florescent elves are shrieking all around me. I just want the dull, flat lighting to stop and be replaced with the warm glow of my lamps. oh, the lamps. they are a special little army that illuminate my days and nights and make feel safe and happy. I am partial to old ones with fifties-style mult-tiered fiberglass shades. they are all over house and yes, they are all usually on at the same time.
5. and here's one from ward: he says that I unwrap any little piece of chocolate given to me with such delicateness, you'd think we were living in war time. as if we were living under a bridge somewhere and I have been given one last morsel of chocolate to last me until the end of my days. as if it is the last piece of chocolate on the earth and covered in pure gold foil with the answers to all the questions of the universe written on the inside. I've never really noticed this about myself (perhaps I'm too wrapped up in the unwrapping). I'm not ashamed to say I'm serious about the goodness of chocolate, thus treating each piece with the respect it so rightly deserves. and if that is wrong, people-- I don't want to be right.
it's all relative, though. as strange as I think I am, I know it could be worse. there might be someone out there who feels the need to wear a tutu while scrubbing toilets. or will only wear red underwear every other thursday (but not if it's raining). this is the part where I get to learn about all the idiosyncracies that exist out there.
please feel free to share.