Sorry if I misspelled Grey, but I'm too lazy to look it up to find out how Jerry spelled it.
That dang white eyebrow hair is back. This is ridiculous. I have got thick, dark hairs in all kinds of very unattractive places that I have to pluck. The last thing I should have to do is also pluck thick, grey hairs out of my freaking eyebrows. If I had the energy, I'd be flailing right now.
I decided earlier today that tonight would be Pluck Night (random sidebar: "Pluck Night" reminded me of "Fight Club," which is the image that this week's cover of CityBeat is channeling. I wanted to tell Heidi this when we picked up our copies tonight, but for some reason, I couldn't turn this thought into a sentence that would make any sense, so I just moved right along), and I was later upset by my decision because I discovered after making said decision that I am missing a pair of tweezers.
Now, I have 2 pairs of tweezers, so I was tooled up to get the job done. But that doesn't matter, because I spent a lot of perfectly good tweezing time in a desperate and vain search for the other pair. You see, it is incredibly, horribly disruptive to my train of thought when I realise that I actually cannot find something. This is because, no matter how messy my place gets, I *know* where everything is located. So not knowing where something is located is really problematic for me, and I tend to obsess over that thing until I am able to deduce where it might have ended up and return it to its proper location.
The problem with the current situation is that I cannot begin to imagine where the tweezers might have gone. They could really be anywhere since they were probably misplaced during the move. And knowing that they are probably here, but that I don't know where they are, is the worst. I am aware that this obsession is bordering on unhealthy, but still: can someone please offer me some validation here? Tell me I'm OK. Share your stories. Make me feel normal again...or just hold me.
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You mean those tweezers I threw away during your move?
ReplyDeleteJust kidding. totally normal, I have torn my house apart, yelling and cussing myself out in a such a way that would probably have made me cry if an actual other person were saying it, because I couldn't find something stupid that I know I put down somewhere. Only in my case its usually something that I use every day, like keys or my wallet. So i don't know if that's better or worse. And its ok that you didn't think of the Fight Club thing because I probably wouldn't have gotten it because I've seen that movie once and I don't really like it, I think its overrated.
ReplyDeleteGrowing up, i had the same problem, but it went like this. my room/car were actually VERY neat. A little OCD neat, actually. BUT< I had A LOT of stuff...clothing, makeup, jewelry, shoes, etc. However, I have been blessed/cursed with this ridiculous way of knowing where everything was (still do!) Anyway, my stuff disappeared all the time, sending me into similarly crazed flurries. Unfortunately, my parents just thought I'd lost whatever sweater/necklace/CALCULATOR, and didn't understand my freakish mind. The real culprit? My ridiculously klepto little sister. I'm still totally bitter over this, by the way. I know...not healthy. Anyhoo...
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