Sometimes I think I'm perfectly normal. Really, I do.
Then I begin to think about the little weirdo things that I do, and I begin to wonder about myself.
For example, if I'm making something with eggs, I will try to pick up an egg that is not adjacent to an already empty spot in the carton. If I'm taking out more than one egg, I don't pick up two eggs that were sitting side-by-side in the carton. Now, I will say that this isn't something that messes with my life. Meaning, it's not going to completely freak me out if I have to get two eggs that were side by side...it's more of a puzzle for me. Can I clear out the egg carton without picking up two adjacent eggs?
When I'm reading a book, I will oftentimes pick which character I would be if I were in the book. And it's always the character that has the better deal - richer, prettier, funnier, etc. In the book Hawaii, I'm Amanda Whipple because she was married to the totally cool Dr. John Whipple instead of to the sanctimonious prig Abner Hewitt. I feel sorry for his wife, Jerusha.
I hate to write on an uneven surface. I started a Bible study yesterday and took my workbook to Kinko's to have them cut off the spine and spiral bind the book for me so I can fold the cover back and make my writing surface flat. The funny thing is that I have picked up the book and admired it several times since I brought it home. It brings me great joy to imagine how neat and tidy my writing will be as I study.
I can't sleep with my back to the door unless my husband is between me and the door. I think my theory is that when the boogeyman comes in, he'll get Ched before he gets me, and by the time he sees me, he'll already be full so I'll survive.
Do you still love me?