Day 3: "Things that make you uncomfortable."
As soon as I saw this was the topic about 762 things came to mind instantly.
On the way to work this morning I asked Ben if anything came to mind for him and the list grew even more. As we were nattering away something slowly dawned on me... most of these weird things I inherited from my Dad.
I can pretty much link every one of these things that makes me uncomfortable to a single moment in my childhood.
So I suppose that this post could also be called "Thank you Dad for making me even more weirder/OCD/strange/obsessive. I still love you though."
I simply cannot have my feet out of the covers at any point in the night.
Why?? Because my Dad told me when I was FIVE YEARS OLD that there were witches under my bed and that they would grab my feet if they were hanging over and unprotected.
WHO DOES THAT TO THEIR CHILD?
WHO DOES THAT TO THEIR CHILD?
I really hate it when people don't highlight things or colour things in within the lines.
This has gotten pretty bad recently, so much so that Sylwia apologises to me if she has accidentally gone over the lines of the sheet we use to track our meetings.
As you can see, today has been okay.
My Dad once made a joke about someone (I am sure it was Tash) not being able to colour in the lines, from that point on I was determined to beat them. It is a neatness thing.
(I have been known to rip whole pages out of my school books/diaries/notepads because there is a mistake half way down the page and I hate crossing things out - what a freak)
I have spoken on here before about how deeply uncomfortable I feel when people drip dry. This morning my sister sent me this.
First I laughed. Then I felt uncomfortable.
When I was a kid I can remember my Dad drying me so vigorously I thought my skin might fall off.
I hate the bathroom floor being wet.
When Ben washes his face in the morning and soaks most of the floor in the process I could just scream. It's like he's in a fancy TV advert that only he knows about - you know the ones where they splash water everywhere (not just their face) and every normal person things to herself "I certainly do not look like that when I wash my face" - yup, that's my every day.
When I was about six, my Dad told my sister off for soaking the bathroom floor with all her drip drying antics. This stuck with me and maybe also explains my hate of drip drying??
And lastly, I hate mess. Walking into a really cluttered, messy flat makes me feel all icky instantly and I have to go about tidying it up. It doesn't matter if it's a family members house, a friend's flat, a friend of a friend of a friend's flat, I have to tidy the immediate area around me.
Sometimes this involves clearing rubbish and crap away, sometimes it's as simple as straightening all the mess out so at least it's parallel mess.
My Dad was a neat freak. Go figure.
Me and my Dad
used to still do fantasise about when Tasha would be old enough to have her own flat just so we could just walk in there with a baseball bat and mess that shit up. Why? Simply so she knows what it was like living with the world's messiest sister/daughter. Aren't we a treat??
I think I might just leave it there for now as this could easily turn into the longest blog post ever and I have better things to do today...like thinking about what shampoo I am going to use tonight and what I am going to wear to dinner; dress, jeans, heels, flats etc... The important things you know??