Ever since I saw that '6 weird things about me' meme going around I wished I had a blog so I could broadcast to the world what is weird about me. Well now I have a blog, and I'm sure I'm going against some meme/blog etiquette here by not being tagged, but I'm going to tell you 6 weird things about me anyway.
1. I hate to say "Good morning." Hate it. Absolutely hate it. My hatred of saying good morning extends beyond my non-morning person morning grumpiness. Even after I've had breakfast and gotten dressed and I'm all awake I still hate to say good morning; I generally smile vaguely or say a quiet "Hello." There is no real reason for this and it is nothing personal.
2. My cat is generally uninterested in my knitting. This one isn't about me so much, but it is a bit weird. I have never once seen him even the slightest bit interested in anything being blocked on the floor, or drying on the rack, or even sitting around the house. As a result most of my knitting has very little cat hair adornment.
3. It wasn't until I read Stephanie Pearl McPhee's book, At Knits End, that I came across the idea of getting self striping socks to match. I never would have thought of it on my own, I just revel in the glory of almost matching socks; it didn't occur to me that this was a problem that needed fixing. I think this comes from my childhood spent wearing mis-matching socks and loving it; a new color with every step.
4. Everyone has their weird hang-ups, food or otherwise. Mine is floating bits of food in the dishwater; the idea of putting my hand in a sink full of water and floating bits of food and such to reach down and pull the drain is beyond repulsive. I will do many things to avoid this, and have become quite good at pulling the drain with a butter knife. To this end I avoid doing dishes, or do them quite wastefully with running water. (I am, however, very conservative in other water related aspects of my life.) Also brussel sprouts make me gag, I actually gag when presented with brussel sprouts.
5. I can't roll my tongue. I know this is hereditary, but my whole family can do it. They keep telling me I am who I think I am, but I think the evidence points to my being the last outpost of a dying Royal family somewhere on the verge of discovery and inheritance. I also cannot raise one eyebrow at a time.
6. When I was little (before I can remember consistently) the rule was that I had to sleep in my room. My parents weren't specific about where, jut in my room. About 4 nights out of the week my parents would find me sleeping in the doorway with my head in the hall, but the rest of me in my room. My room and hallway had two different colored carpets, so it was easy to tell where one ended and the other started. This went on for months and months. I couldn't tell you what I was thinking, sleeping on the carpet over a nice comfy bed, but who can really explain the actions of children?