Like, who does that? Apparently, lots of us
I’m not going to sugar coat it; it’s been a rough week.
The outrage, the shock, the debate, the discussion, the point / counterpoint, the volatile commentary, the veritable volcanic eruption of emotion.
I know we all have our opinion on this but at the end of the day, Hugh Hefner WAS 91 years old, after all.
Let’s stop fighting it and just let him go gently into that good night, shall we? I mean, he’s already in his pajamas anyway, right? #riphef
Why, what did you think I was talking about?
Yeah, a little levity to try lightening tensions. It’s what I do. But seriously, in the wake of the ongoing arguments about you-know-what, I wanted to find a little peace this week … wherever I could. #noescapingit #makeitstop
When I failed, I decided to conduct a little experiment instead.
I posed a question on one of my social media channels asking folks their biggest quirks in life. You know, like how I can only put peanut butter on the left slice and jelly on the right slice of a PB&J sandwich when making one. Sure, I realize how idiotic it is but that doesn’t prevent me from doing it EVERY SINGLE MORNING when I make my son’s lunch.
It got me to thinking about all the other seemingly obsessive compulsive idiosyncrasies that pretty much define me.
The straightening of the towels in every room where they hang; the cleaning of the house before heading out on vacation; the incessant closing of every drawer, door, gate, etc.; the flipping of the toilet paper to roll from beneath; the positioning of like cutlery in the dishwasher basket; the need to have all switches in the downward position when the lights are off and up when they are on; the making of the sign of the cross when passing a church… I could go on and on.
“Man, am I a total wing nut?” I began to wonder … and then it happened. Well, they happened, the pings of response.
PING! My friends Colleen and Tony share my obsession for the straightening of the towels and closing of doors. Further, Tony must only buy things in even quantities. Colleen has to have the blinds completely symmetrical and so does my high school pal Cheryl. And speaking of my high school pals…
PING! Michelle I. puts all her Hard-Rock Cafe T-shirts away in alphabetical order by location. I think that is totally cool. Another high school friend, Sue, eats everything circularly and crust first, if there is any. Neat!
PING! My pals Lynnae and Jim hang all their shirts facing the same direction in the closet while my cousin Rick puts them backward on their hangars. Alrighty.
PING! Numbers are a big thing for many of my friends. Linda has to honk the horn three times when crossing a state line. Pattie has to squirt soap seven times for proper cleansing. My buddy Sharon likes one, as in she leaves :01 on the microwave cook time to avoid the end beeping. Me, too, Sharon! Buddy Tony V. counts his steps, like everywhere. He’s a human FitBit. Pal Lori tallies them, too, but only when ascending stairs.
I learned more and more and more with each new PING! Like Michelle C. has to see vacuum lines on the carpet (this I knew) and Liz brushes her hair before bed each night (when Marie and Lori are washing their feet, BTW). And that my cousin Lynda shares my utensil trait and my niece Allie lifts her feet when driving over railroad tracks and taps the car ceiling when passing under a yellow light — for luck, clearly.
The PINGS kept coming — and my smile got wider and wider.
Because not only were people sharing freely and hilariously, but they were connecting with others and THEIR eccentricities as well.
Dozens of folks commented on various oddities with an “I do the same thing!” response. And it made me so happy, not only because it stopped me from thinking about sad, depressing or flat-out annoying headlines for a while but also because it proved the point I was trying to make: We humans are far more alike than we are different. Period.
Life can be so beautiful and joy-filled and fabulous when we celebrate, respect and honor each other’s thoughts and opinions without judgement. #peace
As for my hubby, he can’t listen to any song by The Cars in the car. Ergo, nor do I when we’re riding along together. But that’s OK. He accepts me for all my overstuffed baggage, too, like how I have to, nearly 18 years since the day he was born, go into Kyle’s room and whisper, “Good night, I love you” before I can go to sleep. Every evening. Without fail.
I know, I know, when he’s in college next year, that is going to be one long walk back to the bedroom for old PK. #dontgetmestarted
Thanks so much to all my friends for playing along. I think you are all wonderfully brilliant and intensely fascinating … and perfect just the way you are, so there.
Happy quirking, y’all!
Kimerer is a Tribune Chronicle columnist with a list of imperfections and obsessive compulsive behaviors longer than Santa’s nice / naughty roll. Check out her wonderful weirdness at patriciakimerer.com