It Ain't Easy Being Me

“A question that sometimes drives me hazy:
am I or are the others crazy?”

Albert Einstein

We all have our idiosyncrasies. I just wonder if I have more than you. For starters, I don’t really like to touch door knobs, especially going into a restaurant. My husband, Jim, knows this, so he makes sure that he always gets the door for me. You can imagine the whole public restroom issue – I either keep a paper towel with me to open the bathroom door, pull my sleeve down, or my shirt UP, to open the door.

I have to sit in the exact middle seat in a row at the movie theater. I actually count the seats to be sure I am in the middle. Jim is very tolerant of this – he patiently stands behind me, holding the popcorn, waiting for me to plop my butt down so he knows where to sit.

I am forever checking things that I just put in my purse. For instance, I turn the truck off, throw the keys in my purse, zip up my purse, and then think, “Did I put the keys in my purse? I better check.” EVEN THOUGH I KNOW I JUST PUT THEM IN THERE. But lo and behold, I must open my purse, and be sure the keys are in there. The same goes with my debit card or any other credit card. WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH ME? (Can you say obsessive/compulsive?)

You know when people use their napkin to wipe their teeth? Yikes! I can hardly even TYPE that let alone witness that! That is the same to me as hearing fingernails scrape on the blackboard. (Boy is THAT a blast from the past!) I hate it so much so that my dental hygienist and dentist know not to come near me with any kind of gauze or cotton near my mouth. They don’t want me freaking out. In fact, it is written on my chart! Probably right next to the caption “crazy lady”.

I have really good hearing. Too good, in fact. When I was little, my mom took me for a physical. The doctor told her that my hearing was so good that it would probably cause me to have a nervous breakdown when I got older! To give you an idea of just how good my hearing is…..I could hear my first husband BLINK. But he had really wet eyes. So, to me, it sounded like someone smacking their lips. Can you imagine living with someone like me? It ain’t easy. Jim likes to make noises. For no reason. He drinks a lot of pop. From a can. He likes to rub his finger along the top of the metal can. This makes me want to howl like a freaking coyote at the full moon. Or else he likes to “click” the can since the aluminum is so soft, by squeezing the can, then releasing. Squeeze. Release. Do you want to know what I want to do to his neck? Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Release. Jim also loves to whistle. WHISTLE. Why? For what reason? This hurts my ears so much. He’ll whistle every so often and either I have to smack him or just give him the evil eye and he’ll shut up. But he has got me back. He went out and bought a psaltery. Oh. Yes. And right now it sounds like a cat in heat. I have blood dripping from my ears.

I live in a world of my own, but you're welcome to visit.
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