Tag Archives: I’m neurotic

Out With the Old

Remember that trip to Kohl’s in which I actually found shoes?  Well, you know where those shoes are now?

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Still in the box in my dining room—a month later.

Now do you see these shoes?

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These are the old janky ones I’ve had for around six months, and I can’t tell you how many miles I’ve logged in these suckers.

From going to the gym, for walks or to work, they’re basically my go-to footwear every single day. But as my stellar photography attempted to display, you can see that they’re not exactly in the best of condition.

I’m not blind. I can see that.

I can also see the box with the new shoes sitting right there on the floor.

I’ve walked by the box a million times, usually after taking off my worn-out shoes above, and the rational thought crossed my mind that I should just make the switch. I should demote the old pair to my “garden” shoes and lace up the new ones for every day use.

But yet…the old pair isn’t dead! There’s still some life in those laces!

I realized I do this with quite a few things, and perhaps this is simply a cry for help or an intervention that necessitates multiple snacks and a cocktail or two.

I start running out of something or fear I’m wearing things out, so I buy another new (insert anything here—vegetable steamer, pair of yoga pants, etc.) that will end up sitting around until whatever I’m replacing has simply just given up hope.

  • I will buy a new stick of deodorant, but use the old one until the container scrapes the inside of my armpits.
  • I will squeeze every last drop of a 99-cent tube of toothpaste like it cost me $20.
  • If the Kleenex box perfectly matches my bathroom, I will leave one tissue in there until I get tired of walking to the other bathroom to blow my nose.
  • I would use a tube of ChapStick until the plastic hurts my lips, but I still maintain that anyone who can keep a tube of ChapStick around until it’s gone without losing it is some sort of genius.

And while some of these practices are, well, practical—it’s good to use all of a product and makes financial sense not to waste things—some of it’s clearly insane.

What’s even more ridiculous is that sometimes I’ll notice that something like a bottle of body wash or dish soap is low and buy a new thing of the stuff. I want the backup—just in case—but then resent that I have to use up the old crap instead the “new scent” of said purchased product. I want my dishes to smell like a peaceful seaside escape!!!

Sigh.

I guess the conclusion is that even though more people see my footwear than smell my dishes and cups, I’m more excited to use a new scent of dish soap than I am to wear a new pair of shoes for some reason.

However, change is all about baby steps, and I did throw away my old bath towel the second I bought a new one. Now the next baby step that I take should probably be in that new pair of shoes…

But first, I have to do the dishes.

That soap isn’t going to use itself up.

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I’m a Weather Wimp

We’ve been lucky lately in that aside from a rare tornado, the weather has been pretty pleasant this summer. However, we’ve still had days when if I get any closer to my window air conditioning unit I’m going to have to change my status to “in a relationship.”

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I know.

The me that made it through the harshest most brutal winter in my history just slapped the me complaining about summer weather, but this just goes to solidify my declaration that I hate weather.*

*Excluding days between 60-80 degrees with no rain and a gentle breeze lightly tinged with the scent of cut grass.

I hate sweating or driving on three inches of ice, and while I know I won’t melt if I get rained on, I will be wet and uncomfortable which is pretty much just as bad.

Living in Michigan, this is an unfortunate situation seeing as everyone loves to say, “If you hate the weather, wait five minutes! It will change!” and then laugh and laugh while I shoot daggers with my eyes.

Why?

Because with any severe weather situation, there is the chance that I will lose power, and ergo, lose my shit.

I’m not high maintenance, but when the power goes out, all rationality and Zen-like tendencies go right along with it not to be restored until Consumer’s Energy plugs things back in.

And you can be sure I obsessively call Consumer’s Energy to get a restoration estimate, usually being told it will happen at some point hours or days after the time I totally freak out (which is, of course, the second that I lose power.)

So when the semi-creepy weather rolls in, I get on high alert, assuming that rumbles in the distance are an impending weather-related disaster headed directly for my house.

If I’m at home, everything not related to obsessively watching the weather channel and lighting candles ceases while I play out various scenarios in my head that will necessitate a reenactment of events on the news.

If I’m at work, all productivity ceases while check radar online and take into account exactly what I have in my fridge/freezer at home, as food waste is my main concern with possible loss of power. If it’s winter, I figure I can throw things outside and warm up some food on the stove. If it’s summer, I freak out and pack that bitch up like an igloo.

In part, I blame the meteorologist.

Yes, we’re blaming him now, as he delights entirely too much in delivering potentially catastrophic (see food situation above) news.

Plus, he makes me feel like a social reject with absolutely no life (on this he’s only halfway right—as usual.) Every forecast is prefaced with something along the lines of, “If you’re getting ready to go out to dinner tonight” or “If you’re planning a picnic followed by a long walk on the beach tomorrow” etc.

Never does he say, “If you’re planning on sitting on your couch in your yoga pants watching the ball game and writing a blog post while trying to find that piece of food you just dropped down your shirt,” plan on partly sunny skies.

I’m fully aware that a) it’s not his fault and b) there’s nothing we can do about weather anyway, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Mini-blinds will be shut and the TV will be turned up loud to drown out the sound of the thunder.

I will perfectly situate my flashlights under my blankie fort and wait, making promises to unseen higher powers that as long as I don’t lose power, I will be fine and work on saving the world in the morning (a task that would conceivably require electricity, therefore eliminating me from the impending power outage.)

Then again, maybe I just have to wait five more minutes. There’s always the chance it will change.

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Inconsequential Dilemmas and a Giveaway!

There are many serious decisions in life that have to be made—what job to take, house to buy or brand of hummus to commit to—but those are few and far between. It’s the day-to-day decisions that rattle my brain—like if I should tell a co-worker she has spinach in her teeth or assume that she’s just showing off.

That decision is usually based on my level of familiarity with said co-worker. If she’s a friend, I’m pointing it out. If she’s the one who ordered cheaper plastic spoons for the kitchen, I stay quiet and debate whether to file a complaint for emotional distress or just quit and go home.

I have standards.

I also have other inconsequential dilemmas:

Once in awhile I like to buy a $1 scratch-off lottery ticket as part of my “5 Year Plan” for independent wealth and success. However, it’s very important to pick the right one. Do I want “Crazy 8s” that promises I can win up to five times or do I want “Cash for Life” that has a maximum jackpot of $5,000 compared to only $4,000 for the others?

Even though I would be thrilled to win $5 on either, I feel this decision could greatly impact my future and ponder my options again. It’s quite a dilemma.


Do I want my dishes to smell like Passionfruit Burst, Antibacterial Action or Gentle Summer Rain? Wouldn’t a summer rain smell kind of like worms? These are the questions I ask while I stand in the aisle and pick out my dish soap.


Then there are times when I debate whether or not I need to change the toilet paper roll.  As I sit there on the can, I often rationalize that there are probably enough sheets to get me through a couple more bladder evacuations, but that there’s also a new roll right behind me on the back of the toilet.

So do I go ahead and proactively switch out the roll and balance the old one on top of the new or wait until the old roll completely runs out? (One thing never in question is that it unrolls from the top, not the bottom.


What about multiple sightings? It seems whenever I run into someone at the grocery store, in the hallway, etc., I will continue to run into that person multiple times in the following minutes. The first time around, a “hello” is normal, but what about subsequent run-ins? If I just talked to you in produce, do I have to talk to you again in the cereal aisle?


And finally, do I keep $50 worth of snarky Knock Knock stuff for myself or offer it to my readers? Hilarious Post-Its? Journals? Books? Cards? I would totally hoard it, but in the interest of increasing my positive karma, instead I will offer it up.

Why?

Because Knock Knock knows our lives are composed of stupid decisions, which is why I’ve been a fan of theirs for years. Plus, it’s cool stuff and I always wish I could give something back to you guys because I kind of like (most of) you.

This includes everything from the “Inconsequential Dilemma” book that inspired this post to the WTF Nifty Notes, How to Traumatize Your Children book and the Passive-Aggressive Memo Pad.

So if you want $50 worth of their product—winner’s choice—here’s how to enter*:

1.You don’t have to jump through hoops or sing my praises from the mountain tops (although hoop jumping and sharing this post is not discouraged.) Just leave a comment about your own “inconsequential dilemma” below.

P.S. I will also throw in a copy of my book if the winner doesn’t have it already—and you know who you are. Yes…you.

*Entries must be in by 11:59 pm on July 19. I’ll pick the winner at random using Random.org and will announce the winner thereafter. Giveaway is open and offered only to legal residents of the fifty (50) United States, including the District of Columbia.

So spill it. What’s your inconsequential dilemma?

Pump It Up

People in Michigan are prone to complain about two things—the weather and gas prices, but for good reason. Our weather can be ridiculous, and as of last week we had the third highest gas prices in the country. So when it’s 95 degrees or we have 100 inches of snow and gas is $4.10/gallon, it’s best to stick to safe topics like religion or politics.

But with that said, gas is a necessary evil. Seeing as I can take a seemingly routine vehicular activity and turn it into an issue of sorts, it’s not a surprise that pumping gas is no exception.

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I really don’t remember a time when we could pull up to a pump and have a smiling face come out to fill ‘er up. Today I pull up to one of the pumps—careful not to pull up too far, as to prevent someone from using the one in front of me—and if someone did approach my car, smiling or not, I would lock the doors and then either prepare my awesome ninja skills or start the car and drive away.

Because it’s all pre-pay now, I usually opt for the pay at the pump option. At this point, the cashier’s voice comes over the intercom like some sort of omniscient gasoline god and greets me and I’m left wondering what I should do. Do I say “hi” back, not knowing if they can hear me but well aware that I just shouted, “I’m fine! Thanks for asking!” out to a semi-vacant parking lot?

Forget the meaning of life. These are the questions that need to be asked.

But there are times my card can’t be read for whatever reason and I have to go in the store and manually pay for the gas like it’s 2010. The cashier that greeted me so warmly before will ask me what pump I’m at and then immediately express complete annoyance at the fact that I’m not prepared and have no idea, opting instead to point to my car at the pump.

Knowing I need him more than he needs me, I smile warmly and silently regret my decision not to carry on a whole conversation at the pump via intercom just moments before.

The attendant then (deeply sighs and) activates the pump, at which point I begin the walk of shame back to my Blazer and proceed with the process at hand, making a mental note of what pump I’m at and carrying on a compensatory conversation with the attendant via an intercom that I’m 99 percent certain is no longer on.

Better safe than sorry, and talking to yourself at the pump will deter any weirdos from approaching your car.

But sometimes actually going into the store and pre-paying for gas is quite helpful, as it will stop the pump at an exact amount and I can attempt to clean my windshield during the pumping process. If forced to pump on my own, I’m pretty sure I spend an extra $10 just trying to get the pump to end on an even amount.

Plus, one day last week the cashier jokingly carded me when I was forced to go inside to buy gas. He was about 112 years old with five teeth, but we’re going steady now—until he brings up the weather.

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