Because if I don't let you inside my head, how else will you know how normal you are?

Sometime last month my sister Tweeted "I think of myself as not eating red meat, but I eat roast beef. Why is that? Just because it's thin-sliced, it changes animals in my head?" And that reminded me of myself a little bit, because I simply CANNOT eat meat that is shaped like the animal from whence it came. 


No: chicken wings, fish, turkey legs


Yes: chicken tenders, hamburgers, turkey sandwiches

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I wish there was a way around the whole "last quarter-inch of peanut butter or mayo" thing. I cannot STAND scraping the last bit out of a PB or mayo jar ... I'd much rather just toss it and start with a new jar, but I can't. I go so far as to get out a rubber spatula and scrape it out. But that swipe that always gets on my second, third and fourth knuckles during the process? That swipe can just bite me.

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As we were leaving the beach last month, a fly got trapped in our van while we were loading the luggage. I tried about 25 times during the AMPLE 13-hour drive home to shoo him out the window, to no avail. He drove me absolutely BONKERS the entire trip. Ultimately I gave up and figured he'd get his: he'd either die a lonely death in the van OR hop out into the 103-degree Alabama air. No matter what, I WON. (Also, don't you love how my fly was a man?) But I keep wondering what he thought when he finally got out ... "What the he**?!"

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When I have a hangnail or a papercut or a blister, for some reason I have to keep "testing" it. This compulsion is even worse when I have an invisible bruise. Quarter-sized spot on the top of my thigh isn't discolored but is inexplicable painful? Poke it. Poke it again. Still sore. Wait 10 minutes and poke it again. Still sore. Five hours later, just before bed, poke it again. YEP, STILL SORE.

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It is soooooo hard to get the air vents in the car to blow in EXACTLY the right places for optimal comfort. How is it possible that it's simultaneously turning my hands into ice cubes, my contacts are drying out, and icy air is shooting up my shirtsleeve, but my legs are still sweating? It's like when you get someone to scratch your back, and they're off by a millimeter. So close, and yet SO WRONG.

Amping up the crazy for you this week

It's been awhile since I exposed some crazy to you, so I thought this was as good a time as any to come clean about a few more things.

1. I tend to drop packages off to be mailed around 5:45 p.m. That just happens to be the pick-up time for both FedEx AND UPS at my mailing store. And every single time I drive up and see both trucks there -- my beloved Brown and the shiny white (less charming) FedEx truck -- I automatically think, "There's a smackdown going on in there."

I don't know why, but I always think I'm gonna walk in the store and there's gonna be an AWK.WARD staredown happening at the counter. I know they're better than that (and here's some proof)(I love that story), but sometimes I want to sit in my van and wait 'til one of them leaves so I don't have to go in and breathe all that stressful air. HELP ME. Oh wait. I just watched my Brown video and all of a sudden I'm all better. It has magical healing powers, I tell you!

2. I am DYING to know what it's like inside cement trucks. I pass this cement company every day on my way home from work, and I see a line like this:

How does all the cement not get stuck in there? How does the spinning part not eventually just become one big block of cement? What do they use to clean them out? Because I could use some of whatever it is around my house in several areas. I'm not bothered enough by any of this to Wiki or Google it, mind you. I'd much rather just ask the pointless questions on my blog.

3. Sometimes I'm just watching TV or driving to work and all of a sudden I'm like, "I wonder what Amy Grant and Vince Gill are doing right now." Or, "I wonder if Steve Carell is on the set at The Office at this very moment breaking during a scene and making them shoot it all over again." I don't spend ALL my time wondering what my favorite celebrities are doing, but I'm just gonna come out and say that it happens a few times a week. Keri Russell, carpenter husband Shane Deary and adorable baby River, WAZZUP IN BROOKLYN?

Embrace the crazy. I have.

There are a few things that I thought were Global Rules, but apparently some people are just living wrong. Please allow me to clarify so that WE CAN ALL LIVE RIGHT:

1. It's not "taking care of your crayons" if you don't store them in ascending rainbow order in the box.

Correct:



Incorrect:




2. The dirty dishes look better if they're organized in the sink while waiting on the dishes in the dishwasher to finish running so they can be loaded. Like so:

 

3. When you know you're about to meet someone for the first time, don't wear something completely out of character for you. I say this because I own one -- ONE -- shirt from Chico's that sort of looks like it's a leopard print, but it's not. It looks a lot like this one, but instead of blue, it's just a black and brown print:

But last week I met someone at work for the first time, and I was totally self-conscious because I stood there thinking, "She thinks I'm an animal-print person. She thinks I'm an animal-print person," the whole time. There's nothing WRONG with animal prints, but I just don't ever wear them and I obsessed over that first impression for the rest of the day.

I know. I don't make sense. 

I never claimed to be normal

• I only use the front right burner on the stove. If we already have something going on that one, I will use the left front burner. However, I am almost 100 percent positive that in the 10 years we've had our current stove, I've never, ever used the rear right one.

• Every time I step over an elevator threshold, I am reminded that there is a minuscule possibility that a cable could break and it could come crashing down, severing me at the torso. Unlikely, but I remember that it happened to a college student a few years ago and it's one of those things I can't forget. Several times a day.
  

• I know, take the stairs, right? Yeah, I have this fear when I take the stairs at the office that I might fall down in the stairwell and -- because I work with like 1,500 other sedentary people who don't ever take the stairs -- no one would find me for days.

• I'm stellar at writing the new year's digits on my checks all the way through January, because the excitement! of the new year! is still on my mind. But around Valentine's Day I start slipping up and writing the previous year again. All week this week it's been 2009.
  

• I have a really, really hard time reading blogs that use multiple fonts and colors. I have actually deleted several from my daily feed because of that ... they're just too hard to read and most of the time it's not worth the effort.

• related: bloggers who only write in lowercase letters and/or center all your text, I'm trying hard to stick with you, but you're pushin' it.

Reasons I am nuts

Because clearly we need more proof:

When I'm walking through a store and I get a pack of gum or my phone out of my purse, it's all good until I go to put the item back in my purse. Are they going to see me put something in my purse on the security camera? Are they going to send a security guard out to check my purse as I try to exit the store because they saw me stash my phone and think I'm shoplifting? To counteract this possible scenario, I find my ridiculous self sometimes exaggerating my movements and visibly holding my phone or whatever aloft for a moment before putting it away.

Related: When I leave a department store and the shoplifting buzzers don't go off, I feel strangely proud. WHY? I have no idea. It's not like I'm pulling one over on someone ... I'M NOT TAKING ANYTHING I DIDN'T PAY FOR. I suppose it's just the blush of being a law-abiding citizen.

Unrelated: You know what really throws me off? When a friend who has lived in the same house FOREVER moves somewhere else. It's not the actual move that kills me. It's the fact that I've gone for years looking up their address on Page 1 of the Ns in my address book, and now they're on Page 3 of the Ns. Disconcerting. It will take me two years to get used to flipping that extra page to find them.

I give way too much thought to things that most people probably don't think about at all. I know this. I have accepted it about myself. I AM BONKERS. But I am very encouraged that -- aside from one or two things in this category -- someone else out there has admitted to having similar thoughts. Thank you for sharing your Crazy with me, too.

Is reading worth the anxiety?

So it's time for another edition of "She So Crazy." This time it revolves around some of the madness related to reading.

- If I drop a book or magazine on the floor while I'm reading it, I suffer from a really disproportionate adrenaline rush and then a crushing sense of defeat. How long would it take to find my place again ... 30 seconds? What's the big deal?

- I always take a book or my Kindle to the doctor's office so I can read during the inevitable waiting period. When the nurse comes to the door and hollers, "Katherine!", for some reason I start freaking out internally. "Wait a second, let me grab my jacket and my purse. Oh, let me put my Kindle in my purse. I'm right here; don't leave without me. OH CRAP, I DROPPED MY KINDLE." I mean, she sees me; she realizes I'm coming. I have no idea why the freakout. Every. single. time.

- I also always have a book with me while I'm waiting to board a plane. Even though the PA system is incredibly loud (and I NEVER seem to miss the boarding calls for the six flights at NEIGHBORING gates), I am always worried that I'm going to get really engrossed in my book and miss my flight, EVEN THOUGH I'M SITTING RIGHT THERE. Paranoid? You might think. But it almost happened to me once. I didn't "snap to" until they announced the final boarding call and threatened to give my seat away to a standby passenger.

- I'm pretty sure I've NEVER broken the binding on a paperback book. When I read, I am careful never to bend the covers back at an angle that would cause a crease on the exterior binding. I've always loved for my books to look brand-new on my shelf, even after I've read them. Otherwise, the titles are really hard to read. Right? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? This particular quirk came in REALLY handy two years ago when I decided to part with all of my books and sell them on Amazon Marketplace. I was able to sell them all in "new" condition ... I sold several hundred books and made almost $2,000. BOO-YAH.

You guys just let me know when I've disclosed enough of my crazy that you decide you can't come back here. Or, alternatively, leave a Comment telling me that I'm not alone! Crazy LOVES company.

Little things that are shortening my lifespan one moment at a time

Do you want to know something sad? I had to add an entire Category for "irrationalities" in my sidebar once I realized I'd written so many posts about the tiny, crazy things that rattle around in my brain that really don't fall into Other Categories for Normal People.

(I haven't published them all yet because I don't want to set off some Google Alert to the psychiatrists out there who might be looking for some new neurotic person to study. But the posts, they're coming. Brace yourselves; they're coming.)

They contain things like this:

- When I'm leaving Kmart with 12 bags of stuff and the security buzzers go off, it makes me sweat. Seriously sweat. The irony is that I am not stealing anything, and they have yet to ever actually come search my bags. They always just wave me through without even calling for backup. (Clearly, their security approach is second-to-none.) But it doesn't change the fact that I get that awkward adrenaline rush and practically start phoning my lawyer (I don't really have a lawyer) as I walk up to those security posts to pass through them.

- If I'm at a stoplight and I hear someone honk in my vicinity, I automatically look up to see if the light's green and I'm the doofus holding up traffic. (I'm not.) When the light is still red, I look around and see if I know anyone in any of the cars. (I don't.) Next, my thoughts run along the lines of, "Did I put a cup on top of my car and forget it? Do I have a flat tire? Is there a cat hanging from my undercarriage?" (I've seen that story on CNN.) For some reason, I am completely incapable of considering the possibility that the person was honking at someone else or was leaning over into their floorboard to pick up their phone that they dropped while they were texting and accidentally honked with their elbow. No, I'd rather just work myself up into a complete lather over it in the span of five seconds.

- When I play Bejeweled Blitz or some other timed game on the computer or Wii, I either have to mute the sound effects or turn them off altogether. As time counts down and nears the 10-second mark, the racing music and/or blinking clock send me into a blind panic. HOW CAN I BE EXPECTED TO PERFORM UNDER THAT KIND OF PRESSURE?

- And then, there was that time WHEN I WAS IN HIGH SCHOOL that I overheard a woman at church tell another woman at church (who happened to be the mom of three boys) that every son you have takes three years off of your life. Twenty years hence, three sons later, and I still remember that comment. I mean, clearly we could all die tomorrow, but according to that woman, I ACTUALLY MIGHT.


I know you can't wait to read more about how weird I am. Don't worry. There's a veritable WEALTH of information on this topic.

More irrational fears of a self-diagnosed mild OCDer

I have a whole set of fears that are almost totally unworthy of a second thought. At most, they entail a moment to a couple of hours of discomfort, and no matter where I live or what I do, I'm likely to run into these circumstances many more times within my lifetime. I'm only mentioning the ones that come to mind immediately ... there are many, many more, I'm sure.

1. I worry that I might forget to shave my legs the night before an OB/GYN appointment. (I want to be at my BEST when I see this gloved man who really doesn't know me at all and won't see me again for 12 months.)
2. When a dinner guest is loading my dishwasher, I worry that she might put dishes in "the wrong way," and I'll have to go back and redo it later. (Her attempt at helpfulness is well-intentioned but misguided.)
3. I worry that a stranger will sit in the seat DIRECTLY NEXT TO MINE in the movie theatre. (Who has the rights to the cup holder and armrest? And did you HAVE to wear so much Clinique Happy that I'm going to get a migraine before the previews are even over?)
4. I worry that I will poop right when someone walks into the restroom at work. (I was so excited when I came in and no one was here. You've ruined my morning.)
5. At a family reunion or a Christmas party where you see people you haven't seen since the LAST Christmas party, do you have to hug everyone who's inching toward you? (Will just one or the other spouse do? Is a nod sufficient? DO I HAVE AGORAPHOBIA?)

Do you have any to add to the list?

Things I am irrational about (an incomplete list)

1. Mrs. [My Last Name]. Now that Nathaniel is in Kindergarten, I am called "Mrs. [My Last Name]" quite often. I understand that it's considered polite, but it honestly makes me want to kick the offender in the teeth when I hear it. It's not the kids that are doing it ... it's the moms and the staff at school who don't know me. The kids call me "Nathaniel's mom! Nathaniel's mom!" when they want to get my attention, which I actually think is quite endearing.

2. Infrequent posting. I read a lot of blogs, or at least, a lot compared to the number many people read. Some bloggers have ruined me for everyone else ... PW, I'm talking to you. Not only does she update every day (even on weekends most of the time), but she has several different pages on her site ... and she updates them ALL regularly. Anyway, Ree would be surprised to know how disappointed I am when I visit and she hasn't posted anything new in the last, oh, five hours.

3. Six (6). I do my fair share of copy editing in my job, and I run across a lot of references to numbers that drive me crazy. I know that not everyone adheres to the AP Style rule of spelling out numbers under 10 and using numerals for numbers over 10, but the habit of spelling out a number and following it immediately with the numeral in parentheses just really gets my goat.

4. Dieting and exercise. There has GOT to be a more pleasant way to lose weight. I'm currently in the middle of a particularly "committed" period in which I'm running every day and am watching what I eat more closely. And, as usual, my thoughts are constantly consumed by those two things. I don't think Normal People obsess over it so much.

5. Paula Abdul's wardrobe. Why does it matter to me what she wears? I have no answer for that. But I do know that I don't like anything she wears on Idol, and the garments (I watch Project Runway! Holla!) she chooses for red-carpet events are APPALLING. Along with her jewelry line, which can only be described as "unfortunate." I'd just like to be able to look at her without developing an eye twitch, but that is becoming impossible.