Fact or Friction

August 14, 2006

It has been brought to my attention (often) that I have "issues." I suppose I could be offended by these comments, but I don't really see these issues as issues at all. They all seem completely normal to me. But time after time, I get strange responses and awkward, almost sympathetic glances in response. Are they right, are my "issues" issues? Or really...do you all have issues yourselves...perhaps you just keep them to yourself so that you will not be forced one day to discuss them via blog?...

1. I hate feet.

I know we all have them, but I don't have to like them. I remember the day it started...I merely passed by those crooked, uneven, unfiled, jagged, puke green polised toe nails attached to feet squeezed into strappy sandels two sizes too small in the hallways of Franklin High School. I haven't been the same since.

2. I can not stand the sound of people brushing their teeth.

Ok fine, this is something people do everyday, twice, sometimes 3 times...but it makes me want to vomit. Not the act of, but the sound itself. You don't like fingernails on a chalkboard? Same thing. I have been known to scream, gag, and near vomit from time to time...

3. I can not touch dry towels with dry hands.

If I wet one hand, I will not grab a towel until I wet the other. It hurts me to even think about...uhhhh...now I have to moisturize...

4. I can not rub my feet/hands on carpet. Or listen to (or think of) the sound of this.

Past coworkers used to find it funny to come up behind me while I was buried deep in insurance claim hell, simply to disturb the peace by furiously scraping shoe on carpet, creating the most wretched sound I can possibly imagine. You can test it out to hear the exact sound I am talking about, but I warn you, do not try this at home unless absolutely sure that your gag reflex is fully dependable to resist.

5. I can not listen to the sound of hands rubbing together. Nor would I be able to give, or tolerate receiving, a massage.

Ok, if you haven't noticed (with the exception of the "foot" thing, but I think that explains itself), the pattern is friction. If you know me, you know this. And you have probably brought to my attention that I'm crazy. But I continue in my hopes that I am not alone, and that in posting this blog, a fellow blogger or blog subscriber may "come out" and confess to same, or similar.

This, my friends, is your confessional...