Well, here’s the deal. I have once again been tagged, this time by r.g. And this time, I have to list five “weird habits” I have. So, being the good sport that I am, here we go.

1. I am obsessive-compulsive. About my ears. Yep. That’s what I said. I am freakishly, insanely obsessed with cleaning my ears. To the point that my doctor fussed at me and told me to stop. Did I? No. I cannot do it. I am a Q-Tip junkie. I cannot stand the thought of anything in my ears. Including water. After showering, swimming, whatever, I’m jamming that swab in there. And you can bank on the fact that there will never, ever, be any wax in there. My doctor has threatened me to no avail.

2. I don’t step on cracks. I’m thinking it goes back to that “break your mamma’s back” thing we did as kids. Whatever the reason, I don’t do it. And did you know that there are roughly 14 to 16 steps, per square, between the lines in the pavement from the door of my building to my parking spot? No “As Good As It Gets” references here, please.

3. I will NOT get near dark holes. Like if someone is ripping out a sink, and there’s that gaping, nasty hole? Nuh-uh. Nowhere near it. Don’t even think about the hole in the floor when toilets are being replaced, or open manholes, or, what may be the worst, a hole in the wall. (There is most assuredly going to be a blinking eyeball peering from it at some point, and I am not going to have any part of that.)

4. Chocolate and coffee. Nothing in the world like a steaming cup of black coffee, no sugar, and a good piece of chocolate. One bite followed by one sip. Day or night. Simply the best.

5. I love clutter. There is a lot you can learn about a person from their clutter. My house is neat as a pin, but my decorating is that of organized clutter. Lots of framed photographs clustered on tables. Kitchen counters with my collection(s): hot sauces (the funnier the name, the better), old tins, labels, and framed ads of days long past, and my prized collection of cobalt bottles, crammed on a kitchen windowsill, catching the morning sun’s rays and casting blue light about the kitchen. My mantle is a display of antique pictures and toys, carelessly yet carefully arranged. It’s a dusting nightmare, but it’s very much a part of who I am.*

*Technically, this probably doesn’t qualify as a “weird habit,” but I don’t see any rules floating around here, do you?

So there you have it. I realize that at least three of five of these things already make me look neurotic as hell. But if you were to ask my kids, they’d tell you very quickly that I have not even touched on how weird I really am. But then again, they aren’t writing this, are they? And what do they know, anyway?

Tagged or not, I want to hear about your weirdness as well. What are some of the “special” things about you?

Finally, in the interest of fair play, I tag. . .


Ok. How many of you are still laughing at the way I count the steps to my car? A show of hands, please. . .