Tagged

You want oddity, quirkiness, cause for concern? You got it.

The only secret I keep from people is a self-daignosed condition affectionately termed “the evens.” Symptoms are an insatiable need for having everything balanced between right and left in even numbers, from stepping across hash marks on a football field to eating with both sides of my mouth to the way air conditioning blows against my ear.

I hate to purchase anything. Any monetary transaction is to be avoided like the plague. Even at the grocery store, if the cost is more than $40, Anna has to pay while I stand beyond eyesight of the register.

I write songs celebrating or making fun of people, sometimes at the same time. “Hey Jukes,” “Meisy P” and the COW trilogy are but a few examples, as are the songs I wrote for my sister’s birthday, my wedding dance, my first anniversary and two songs—in the event of having either a boy or a girl—for the new baby.

I hate ice. I hate everything about it.

I always count stairs. No matter if there are hundreds, or if I have counted the same stairs already. Every time I take them, I count. At my parents’ house, for instance, there is a set of eight and another set of six, which I have counted probably a few thousand times in my life.

Until embarking on my current profession, I all but refused to use a telephone. I hate telephones almost as much as ice and transactions.

I believe everything I say. I say I have never flirted because, well, it’s true. For the same reason I say I am not concerned with what others think of me. I will never be past the possibility of being wrong, but never too accomodating to say otherwise.