Life's Little Details: Knitting, Sewing, Green Living, Frugal Living and Cooking In A Little Corner of Southern French Countryside.

Monday, December 18, 2006

What A Weirdo!

I have been tagged for a meme by our friend Gromit who has recently resurfaced after months away from the computer. I heard there was some incident involving tangled mohair yarn that kept Gromit "tied up" for so long.
Here are the instructions for the meme (and I won't be tagging anyone because I just don't know six people whom I sure would be happy to be tagged - but, by all means, share your weirdness with the world, if you are so inclined):

"THE RULES:Each player of this game starts with the ‘6 weird things about you.’ People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says ‘you are tagged’ in their comments and tell them to read your blog."

So, here are six weird things about me that you most likely don't already know...

1. Every night before I get in bed, I have to sweep the bed of even the smallest little piece of dirt (incidentally, I never found this necessary until we moved to this dry, limestoney property we now live on and had kids pouncing around in our bed). I also dislike having any wrinkles in the sheets.

2. I often chew the middle of my upper lip.

3. I occasionally get a compulsive need to wash my hair. It just suddenly feels dirty, and something needs to be done about it.

4. I am not generally claustrophobic, but when I get hot, I get almost panicky trying to get out of whatever clothing is making me hot (this is worst when I'm wearing a coat or heavy piece of clothing while strapped into the seatbelt of a car. It takes every ounce of rational thinking I am capable of (which, according to some, may not be that much) not to thrash around like a cat in a carrier on the way to the vet's office (or a thought-to-be-dead-deer strapped to the hood of a car, perhaps).

5. I sucked my thumb and twirled my hair on my fingers as a baby. My mother was able to rid me of the thumb-sucking habit rather abruptly at the age of two (some quite nasty-tasting lotion stuff was involved). I have never really stopped twirling my hair. I have succeeded in quitting several times as an adult but never entirely. Oddly, the urge is never there when my hair is too short to get a good twisting action going. If I let my hair grow out, though, my hands seem to instinctively know when it's long enough to give me the urge to start twirling again. And, just so you know, when I say I twirl my hair, that's not really an accurate description. I have a complex set of knots and twist I do. Then, I caress them with my finger (Freak!). It's the kind of motion only a child could come up with. Need I mention how comforting this can feel? It's been months since I last did it - my hair is currently too short.

6. I can't stand to have dirt on my fingers or have the skin on my hands too dry. I especially hate packing dust. Since I like to cook, I'm often washing dishes by hand. This makes my skin dry, so I'm always applying lotion.

And, one little extra tidbit for you...

Most likely my mom and my brother could read this list and would be nodding their heads in vehement agreement on at least half of these six things (I know my brother once said, "hey, that's a great idea" when I admitted to sweeping my bed every night). We all have a very strong sense of touch, I think, and this makes us extremely sensitive to strange little sensations others might find pretty normal. I think it's actually worse for them than it is for me.

On the up side, I have a theory (based on absolutely no fact whatsoever) that this hypersensitivity is somehow linked to the ability to appropriately hear speech sounds. It makes imitating the accent in foreign languages easier. As a result, I can pull off an almost native sounding accent in the two languages I speak aside from English (which is my native language, and I'm pretty sure I do okay in that one, too). I know that my mom and brother, despite the fact that they don't really speak any foreign languages, are quite good at imitating words and phrases in another language.

And let's be happy that I am not a soldier at war, because my enemies would have no trouble torturing me. All they'd have to do is grease up my hair, roll me in packing dust, put me in a hot room wearing an angora straight-jacket, and send me to bed on wrinkled, dirty sheets with my head shaved and some kind of nasty-tasting lotion on my lips so I could get no comfort. I'd tell them anything.

Oh, and on a totally unrelated note, I finished the cable newsboy cap (or whatever it's called). I made some accidental modifications to it, but it turned out well. I'll post a picture of it soon, I hope (that'll have to wait until I have some make-up on to con you all into thinking I'm not a hideous creature with hormone-induced acne all over my face. Until that time, you may read this post over and over again and ponder my freakishness.