True Confessions I was pretty revealing to some, but I didn’t ask for you to bare your souls along with me. Why shouldn’t my fiends join in the fun, ja?
Here are a few oddities off the top of my pointy head to get us started. Some of you will already know these things about me, and some will go, “Hmm. She is peculiar.” (Some will say that anyway.)
- I hate to talk on the phone. There are exceptions, of course. If we have something to talk about specifically, no problem. It’s the talking on the phone to just talk…or talking on the phone when I am largely responsible for keeping the conversation going…NO. Email or text me instead.
- I am completely grossed out by lipstick. I don’t want to be, trust me. And strangely enough, I’m addicted to Chapstick. SOME lip glosses are OK, as long as they aren’t slimy. But even looking at an ad or a commercial featuring shiny, wet-looking glop just makes me urpy. I recently bought some Maybelline Baby Lips tinted lip balm, in cherry flavor (my favorite). And while it smells good and is not slimy, it’s RED. Like cherries. Duh. In the drawer it goes.
- I refuse to touch a door knob in a public place with my bare hands. And I’m no germophobe, trust me. Cripes, I’m a teacher and a grandmother. I get hugs and high fives. But there’s just something about touching a thing that all manner of unidentified germy fingers have caressed in the last 10 minutes…oy. My sleeves get a workout. And what happens when I’m not wearing long sleeves? I do a weird, convoluted grasp on the knob, involving as little of my finger surface as possible, then find somewhere to wash my hands. That works well in my high school’s main office, where the door knob is the typical spherical kind, as opposed to the rectangular handle you can push down with the back of your hand, and there’s a sink nearby in the teacher lounge. The fact that I put this much thought into door knobs is troubling, I know.
OK, there’s a few of mine (unfortunately, there are more). Now let’s see a few of yours. Got one you’re willing to share? And by “willing to share,” I mean “willing to admit to without incriminating yourself in a court of law.”
Ready, steady, go. Confess! It’s good for the soul.