Monday, July 17, 2006

Stuck with me

Here are the things I do that irritate me the most:
  • I repeat myself. I know that I do it. I try to stop it. But I can’t. I don’t do it because I feel the other person didn’t understand. I do it because I want to make it clear for myself. Or because I think that what I said was rather smart so I need to hear it again.
  • I check to make sure doors are locked when I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are.
  • I have bouts of a crippling anxiety. I don’t know why sometimes it’s there and sometimes it’s not. All I know is that for a few days I’m in its grip and I’m sure something awful is going to happen. I look over my shoulder constantly, check the news for earthquakes in Mexico and stay up all night, convinced someone is going to break into my house. My friend Amy says that when she stays in a hotel room alone, she barricades the door with a chair. This made me feel a bit better. Paranoia loves company.
  • I’m the opposite of a pack rat. I need to not have too many things. Every couple of months I want to give everything away, including our furniture and anything that’s not nailed down to the floor. This is the only time Luca puts his foot down (well, and when I drive from the passenger seat.)
  • I count the items I carry in my purse (seven.) Then, I count them again. Luca knows that I do it. When I think he isn’t looking, I sneak a peak. Once, I confessed to my friend Stephanie that I counted everything in my purse and as a result she makes fun of me regularly. She has three boys. If I had three kids, I’d be counting them all the time.
  • Items on surfaces have to be as few as possible, and they have to be squared (as opposed to crooked or at an angle.) If I had a dime for every time I straighten things out, I’d travel the world for seven years.
  • I plan what I’m going to eat. Then, I go over everything I ate. At first, it’s extremely enjoyable, like when you’re little and you lose a tooth and you flick your tongue in the hole where the tooth used to be. After a while I get sick of thinking about food but I can’t shut it off. (Hence the creation of this blog, so I could get it out of my system.)
  • I look at Luca while he’s sleeping to see if the power of my gaze can wake him up. Sometimes it does and he just smiles and goes back to sleep. I mean, really. I’d kick me if I were him!
There is more. So much more. This, however, is all I’m willing to share. The next time someone you love is making you crazy, think about this: I make myself crazy, and I’m stuck with me.

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