I'm a self-avowed #neurotic scared of many things that well-balanced people don't care a fig about. Like, for instance, big parties. Large gatherings overwhelm me. Too much stimuli, human and #nonhuman. I'm surrounded by too many people and too many tables and food trays. My eyes start roving over the entire room, and it's like I'm trying to #gobble everyone and everything up into a tasty cake so I can swallow it and be assured that I haven't missed a thing. Control is my problem and also my main defense weapon, but I usually run out of coping mechanisms early on and wind up standing like a statue with an insincere grin plastered across my face. I hope no one recognizes my #immobility as the frightened paralysis it really is. I'd rather they take me for a long-lost relative who was talked into coming and who doesn't give a shit about anything or anyone.
Here are a few more things that I can't tolerate. Other people may also disdain them. Maybe one of those people is you!?
1. Stale cookies. I'm not kidding. One cookie that tastes like sawdust or is soft like rubber and I toss the whole box. The same goes for crackers, taco chips and popcorn. I've done some great house cleaning jobs that way.
2. Socks that shrink a little bit more each time you wash them. I regard them with contempt and wonder why I wasted my money on these losers. Stupidly, however, I still tend to wear them because I'm too lazy to go to Target's and buy more.
3. Off-leash animals wandering near busy roads. This makes me super nervous. Usually I'm driving somewhere and don't know what to do. Should I stop and risk an automobile accident? Should I try to get the dog/cat in my car and hope there's an ID tag? Should I get involved in what may very well turn out to be an #emotional #trauma? The latter option is especially dangerous because it takes me about two seconds to get attached to an animal, and then I get confused as to what to do. I make negative judgments about the owners even if the escaped pooch was let out accidentally. I start rationalizing that the owners are probably drug #abusers or just plain slobs and the animal would be better off in a new environment. With me.
4. Compliments from people pleasers. I don't know what to make of these remarks so I usually let them hang in the air about three seconds, then change the subject. How can I trust people who don't know me from Adam and yet act like they've read all my books and articles three times over and are convinced I'm an undiscovered #genius? I don't buy their praise so usually I just get depressed and consider these compliments undeserved. Then suspicion sets in and I start wondering what their ulterior motive might be. Do they want me to buy some of the stuff they're usually hawking? Do they want me to pay them back in similarly-styled compliments? WTF should I do?
5. Wondering if I'll die from dementia like my mother, aunt, and a lot of other people whose #obituaries I track in the newspaper. I'm still hoping for a cure by D-Day but I have a sneaking suspicion it won't be fast enough for Boomers like me. My friend Rosa says she'll take care of me if worse comes to worse, but that's so not calming. And what about my animal friends? Rosa isn't dog friendly.
6. Comedians who died before they were really, really old. Like Robin Williams, John Belushi, and Gilda Radner. Shouldn't there be an age longevity minimum on these kinds of people. After all, they keep the rest of us laughing, and that's so important! Besides, if death can topple these talented geniuses, I might as well give up trying to outsmart it---bring on the french fries and mint chip ice cream!
7. Artistically arranged foods served to me in restaurants. The supposedly warm meal usually is placed in front of me colder than a door knob because it took these gourmet cooks at least 15 minutes to figure out the aesthetics. Experts call it the "presentation," and they wrestle with earth-shaking questions like should I sculpt the mashed potatoes into a volcano and scatter the veggies around the plate to indicate lava flow, or should I be more daring and cut the meat into a horseshoe and use arrow-shaped spuds and veggies to spell out the patron's first name? The worst part is I never send the ugly mess back because I don't want to seem unappreciative of their efforts. This marks me as a supreme "wuss," and does nothing for my self-esteem.
8. People who only talk about themselves. There's a whole army of these narcissistic souls out there, and when they find a receptive listener (I fall into that category), they chatter on and on and on until you interject something odd that throws their balance such as "Did you know that jello is not the number one dessert for hospital patients?" You get their attention for about a second or two before they continue their monologue nonplused right from where they left off.
9. People (some who I've known for years) who call me "Janet" instead of "Janice." I have an immediate "ouch" response to that but I rarely correct friends, family and acquaintances who commit this grievous error. Go ahead and file that under the "wuss" category too. Or perhaps I'm just lazy or have low expectations. Take your pick.
10. People you do not recall ever meeting but who insist they know you. They either are great liars or they have memorized your profile or resume on #Facebook or #Linkedin. Any way you cut it, they are the enemy since they have the upper hand in any conversation while you search your brain for clues to their identity. Are they the customer reps for vanity #publishers? Do I know them because we shared the same table at the last book convention? Better yet, do I know them from elementary school?
11. Things that actually creep and crawl. Like this past weekend I got hit by a double feature: a loose gecko trapped under my den couch by two cats and a nosy schnauzer; and a spider with huge legs crawling up my kitchen wall. Thank goodness my #husband was nearby (yes, I'm one of those females who won't touch creepie-crawlies, and I don't expect to change even if Gloria Steinem insists). While my #husband did kill the hairy-looking spider with a mop (we couldn't determine its toxic potential), he was unsuccessful chasing down the gecko. As a result I spent the entire day sitting in a kitchen chair instead of on the couch where I normally watch TV or read because I don't like to be surprised by lizards even if they do commercials and are universally regarded as adorable. One day later I did see a dead gecko (save your tears!) on the fake lawn in my backyard.n Yes I did say a real amphibian on fake turf. I have to conclude one of two things: (a) someone--namely a schnauzer--deposited the gecko outside after murdering it or scaring it to death; or (b) this is not the same gecko seen in the den-- this gecko was murdered outside by one of my six schnauzers or died from heat exposure or a bad heart. Of course there's always the possibility that he died from eating some of my fake lawn. RIP Gecko! Stay tuned for more "things that creep me out," especially funeral behaviors--what exactly is the right gesture of condolence? Should you do the TV "Law and Order" thing and say, "I'm sorry for your loss," or should you change the subject to "What can I help you with?" and hope they don't take you up on it? Better yet, should you try to squeeze out a few tears and then scramble for kleenex or sunglasses to show you're overcome with grief too? Is a sympathy or condolence card necessary if you spoke to the official mourner on the phone or attended #memorial services? Handling death is almost easier if you just say you're in denial and your shrink hasn't yet given you permission to process it.
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