2005
Now with Three Toes!
I know this isn’t very attractive, but today I feel compelled to share with you a brief selection from my list of imperfections.
I am the girl who’s always paranoid she has something in her teeth after a meal, but instead of excusing herself to the bathroom to check it out in a mirror, she (I) instead run(s) her (my) tongue into the groove between each and every tooth, from the front and from the back, no less than thirty times each in search of any tenacious morsel. This, of course, is not at all as subtle as it feels inside my mouth, and I’d have better luck if I just hauled out the high-powered Sonicare and waterpicked right there at the table between bites, but no, I persist with the oral spelunking until I have unintentionally but quite effectively convinced my unfortunate companions that THEY have something in THEIR teeth. After-dinner tooth paranoia travels like a yawn, you know. The thing is, I get no joy out of making my dining company uncomfortable and self-conscious, so it’s not like I’m sliding them the international mime for Clean Your Grill for my own childish enjoyment. I think the problem is that I give them too much credit, thinking they can’t possibly think there’s food in THEIR teeth when clearly I am the one with food in mine. Because, see, I always do have something in my teeth. I’m just trying to get it out without having to stand up and walk all the way to the bathroom so I can pick at myself in public and then walk all the way back. I really am that lazy. Problem is, I can never ever get the food out of my teeth without a tool (toothpick, floss, fingernail, straw, business card), and yet I insist on trying and trying nevertheless, tongue tongue tongue. Is this the definition of insanity?
And speaking of lazy, today I noticed that I have two bottles of pills going on four years expired at my house, and instead of throwing them away I just put them back in the medicine cabinet where I found them even though the garbage can was right there. My sloth is not just physical but mental too! Whee!
Also, I don’t call people back. This is very very bad of me. Especially since I, for the most part, like the people who call me. One the one hand, I am afraid of the phone. On the other, two-person conversations take up a lot of energy.
This list was going to be longer, but *sigh*…
So what are all you chicklets and bazookas doing this weekend? Me, I got nothin’. Not so good with the Fourth of Julys, you know. There might be a story or two about it in the archives. Meh.
