So, my family is going to be dumbfounded by this as will the many many husbands I have had. It’s extremely humbling for me to admit this but I’m a big girl and I need to come clean. Now that I don’t have ‘roommates’ anymore I’m starting to find out how annoying I am. You see, there’s no one else here to bug me. No one to roll my eyes at and sigh at and say “OOOKKKAAAYYY” too. Instead, I am getting on my own nerves which is quite surprising to me since I’ve always thought I was really easy to live with. I mean HELLO. Just ask my husbands. 😳
I don’t know if I’m alone in my eccentricities or if everyone has them, but I think I might have an awful lot of them I never recognized before. Take brushing my teeth. For some reason, I simply can’t bring myself to do this with my glasses on. I’ve tried…and I can’t. I’m really not sure why this is but I’m convinced it’s not the fear of getting toothpaste spittle on the lenses since my glasses are pretty gross anyway. But anyhoot, the glasses have gotta come off before the brush goes into my mouth (I could make some naughty jokes right now, but I have a feeling ma would call me and yell at me, so for the sake of a headache I don’t feel like having, I’ll refrain. However, you all have fun.).
And another thing with tooth brushing is that I love to do it in the shower (another opportunity for a joke…I’m not going to be able to hold back much more, ma 😏). For some reason, they just feel cleaner when I do. I brush and brush and brush with my Hello Kitty toothbrush since I need a super soft one and I can’t find one like that for adults here (actually, I haven’t really tried since I like Hello Kitty anyway) and after I’m done brushing it feels sorta good to spit it out all over my feet. Go figure.
Another shower secret? I have a very strong feeling (I am a bit psychic but let’s save that for another post) y’all do this too but might not want to admit it: I love to pee in the shower! I don’t know why. I think it’s because when you’re a girl and you have to pee outside, you have to either bare your butt behind a bush or scootch your undies out of the way and pray you don’t pee on your hand, soak your jeans, or squat in poison ivy. And, no matter how careful we are, things can ‘go wrong’ since we can’t ‘direct’ our flow quite like guys can. Confession: I’ve always wanted to pee my name in the snow…sigh. Anyhoot, maybe peeing in the shower is my way of saying “See you guys, I can do it too!”. What an accomplishment. (Ma…how proud are you right now? 🙄)
I’ve also come to realize how ‘picky’ I am and I know my son and ma are muttering something under their breath to the tune of “No shit, Sherlock” at exactly this moment. I can’t STAND a dirty counter or table. If there’s a tiny sticky spot, I’ll clean the whole damn thing. Sticky things are my downfall. I can take some grime…some smears…some splotches…but sticky stuff? Huh uh. It’s gotta go. Along the same lines, I hate to see dishes piled up in the sink, and even though I could wash them once every night after my dinner, I can’t bring myself to do that. I have to fill that sink up to my elbows and scrub away after every meal. (My house is over 60 years old and there’s no room for a dishwasher 😐).
Another icky thing I can’t stand is dirty windows; unfortunately, Edward can reach almost every window in my house and there are constant snotty dog smudges for me to see. I’m actually thinking about buying stock in Windex since I use a boatload every week (it’s gotta do better than the bitcoin stock I bought 🙄). The other day, I was washing one side of the glass door while the dogs were smearing the other. Then, being the brainiac I am, I worked on the dirty side after letting the pooches out which meant they could smear the clean side while I was wiping down the dirty. It was like a never-ending window washing nightmare and it took me a few times to realize to keep the damn dogs on the side I’m washing. Look, as my ma says: “Kristi, you are so smart…what the hell?” And I say: “Ma…my fucking Master’s isn’t in common sense for piss sakes!” I won’t tell you what her reply is. Let’s just say it’s not meant for all ears.
You are going to be gobsmacked to hear this one, but I love to talk, yap, gab, and chatter. And, since I’m alone with 2 dogs? I’m yacking to them all day long which is actually working out quite well since they can’t interrupt or judge me for the inane things I like to say. Hubby 3 would bet me $50 I couldn’t be quiet for 5 minutes straight. I’m not lying when I say I usually couldn’t last for a minute. It was like I was running out of oxygen or something, but I would have to say something. So why is this all annoying? Well…because I like voices. NO! Not voices in my head for fuck sakes…but using voices when I’m talking. I have a voice I use for Dottie (and she talks back in a voice that only I’m capable of since she can only bark but I always know what she wants to say. More proof of my psychic abilities 😱), a voice for Eddie, a song I sing when I let them outside, a song I sing when I see them in the morning, and the list goes on. Look, if I was living with someone else who was doing this I’d probably take a swig of Ny-Quil every afternoon and pray for a 3 hour nap. Now, can this get even worse? Of course it can! ANYTHING can be worse when you’re bipolar. Anyhoot, I have a ton of plants. A ton. My house looks like a jungle or the set of Gilligan’s Island and I talk to them as well. I swear I think they are so healthy because I do this (of course it might be the water, sunshine, and fertilizer I provide but I’m pretty sure my melodic voice has something to do with their greenery).
And I love love love to sing! LOVE it! My dream is to be on America’s Got Talent (which I don’t have), belt out “I Never Promised you a Rose Garden” (which no one knows anymore) and get a standing ovation from the audience (hell would have to freeze over first). Two of my hubbies were quite mean about my singing. I think one called it ‘caterwauling’ and another said something about how it made his skin crawl, but Hubby 3 loved it. He would ask me to sing something, tell me how good it was and how talented I am, and then we’d end up in the bedroom doing something very naughty. Some might think he was ‘lying’ to me to get me in the naughty room, but I truly believe, with all of my heart, he just had an ear for beautiful music. Note: now that we’re divorced, he has never asked me sing again during our weekly conversations. Hmmmm. 🤨
Messing with my bangs is something else I do which is probably very aggravating to others, but I blame my ma for this and I know my sissy will back me up. When T and I were little, ma would literally take a piece of freaking scotch tape, stick it over the hair on our foreheads, cut the damn thing off, and voila…we had our bangs cut. OK…couple of problems with this: ma had no idea how to level the fucking tape so my sister and I went through the first 10 years of our lives thinking our bodies were slanted. Ma thought ‘short’ bangs were fashionable, so T and I looked like a merchant marine from the front. And finally, even though ma only had to make a ‘straight’ cut, she always forgot a chunk and we looked like we were inbred. So yes, I fuck with my bangs as does T. We trim, snip, thin, and cut until there’s nothing left and then we cry to each other about how we are not going anywhere in public until they start growing back. To be honest, it’s hell. Every husband has thrown away my scissors and J even did too. But every time the scissors were gone, I simply trotted down to Walgreens to buy some more. So there.
My lord, as I’m reading through this to proof it, I’m realizing why I’m living alone with plants and dogs. I’m sorta understanding why my hubbies decided to part ways and why, to this day, all of them still are a bit shaky. I’m a freaking nightmare to live with, and I just pray Dottie and Edward never learn to push the back door open. After all, what would I do then? Buy more plants? Hmmmm. I’d probably have too.