Compulsive Is The New Fabulous

Wow! It's been awhile since we played a tagging game together. Here we go. Angela says my blog is fabulous and is due for the winning of a "Fabulous Award." While this is certainly no leggy lamp with fishnet stockings, I do consider this a "major award". So thanks!

According to the rules of this tagging game, I'm now supposed to discuss five things that I am compulsive/obsessive/somewhat disturbingly overanalytical about and then award the "Fabulous Award" to a handful of other blogging friends.

Okay! Let's do this! Everybody's got their weirdness, and here's some of mine:

1. Step into the dark corners of my mind with me for a moment. At night when I can't sleep, sometimes I make emergency plans in my head. What if a fire breaks out in my livingroom right now? What if a burgular was to break into the back door at this moment? Would you know what to do? Would you know the exact order of your steps in these emergency situations? Don't worry. I would know. You could go back to sleep. I would have it all laid out and save the day. If you're spending the night at my house and terror ensues, you're covered.

2. My blanket. I love my blanket. And yes, I can't very often go to bed without it. I carry it around with me. Jim, Jack, and now Emma have helped me search the house for it when I occasionally lose track of it. Good grief.

3. Christmas lights. I am slightly Scroogelike when it comes to Christmas lights. When I drive past your house, I will sometimes lose my sense of the benevolent and kind Christmas spirit that should surround us this season. Only momentarily will I slip into a really-not-so-gentle critique of what you've done wrong with your lighting. I'm sorry about that. Merry Christmas!

4. Wrinkles. I abhor them. I don't like them on my clothes. I iron a little more than I probably should. I don't like them in my bed. I will remake the bed just to tighten down the sheets and rid the sleeping area of all things wrinkly that could possibly be beneath my body as I lay unconscious. I don't like the feel of your t-shirt's wrinkles underneath my hand whenever I place my palm on your shoulder. Without hesitation, I will go so far as to yank on your clothing in a vehement effort to smooth things out. There will be no wrinkles underneath my offended hand. (Do I still get my award if this paragraph has been entirely about not my own obsession but my crazy husband's?)

5. To make up for my cheating ways on number four, I'll share a good and gross one that I'm sure you'll feel obliged to give me crap about later. You know that story that came out a little while back about the guy who has collected all of his fingernail clippings over his lifetime in a clear plastic bag? They are curled and brown and disgusting... but he has them. Well, I kind of get it... in a weird way. I do enjoy peeling sunburned skin and collecting it in a pile on the bed beside me before I throw it in the trash. I really like to use the Ped Egg on my heels and then open up the contraption to see the little white mound of dead skin cells waiting there. I like to see how many gray hairs I can pull out of my head in the morning, and it irritates me so much when I lay them on the counter, finish yanking, and then can't find them again to survey my collection. (Gray hairs magically turn invisible when they are not attached to my head.) So, yeah. I understand weird guy's fingernail collecting ways. I would not ostracize him. I would cut him some slack.

(Unless he had screwed up Christmas lights.)

I tag Danavee, Ashley, Andrea, and Jennifer. Go and continue being fabulous. You're it!