Quirky Habits

When I was growing up, if you had to write something down, you used a pen and paper.  If you had something “formal” to produce, or, if you were a writer (I guess), you used this thing called a “typewriter.”  There was the clackety manual kind, and the modernized electric kind.  Years later, there were these things called “word processors,” possessed only by the chic and upper echelon of society.  I brought one to college, and thought I was pretty cool.  It weighed probably 12 pounds.

Anyway, being an original pen and paper gal, and always having issues with the memory and formatting for my word processor, I was very very nervous about the whole idea of “saving” documents when computers entered my realm (How do you know when a blond has been using your computer?  Answer: There's white out on the screen).  I’m not sure what prompted this fear, since it’s not like I'm ever composing my autobiography or anything like that.  It could be that perhaps once or twice I had been in the process of typing something very long (surprising, I know), became disconnected because the phone rang, and lost all of my precious words (ahhh, the old dial up days).

Due to this fear, I am an obsessive hitter of the “save” button.  Even when I’m writing these posts, if I start it on a Word document, then transfer it as a “draft” in my blog (where everything saves instantaneously, mind), I’m still hitting “save” in multiple places.  Sometimes I will even email my own document to myself, for fear that it will get lost in outer space somewhere.  Totally ridiculous and a little OCD, I know, but, there it is.

Which brings me to the official subject of this post, and that is, quirky habits, and from whence they originate.  Apart from the whole “save” thing, I have a few other strange habits/beliefs/actions which are part of my daily repertoire.

A long time ago, I watched an episode of this scary show, “Millenium” (dang, I had to look that up), in which a serial killer hid in a girls’ closet then murdered the family in front of her. For some reason, it really got to me, and thus, Catherine transforms into slightly paranoid adult who checks under her bed and in closets before she goes to sleep. I did this for years, until we finally owned a dog and I trusted him somewhat to give me fair warning of underbed or closet-hidden serial killers.

Now, in general, I have to say that there is really not much that I am afraid of, never really have been.  I was never a big fan of basements or of the idea of being set on fire, but it was nothing paralyzing.  In truth, I felt that I could pretty much handle anything, provided that I had warning ahead of time.  Aha!  There it is.  I don’t know if there is a “fear of being unprepared for probably harmless but potentially deadly situations,”  but if there is, then I suppose I’ve got that.

I don’t ever want to be that guy who is tapped on the shoulder from behind and turns to find an axe wielding murderer in his personal space.  Or the innocent lady sleeping in her bed who rolls over to see Dracula at her bedside.  Nooo no.
Which is why, in my small attempt to prevent Dracula or other nighttime invasions, I generally sleep facing the door of my bedroom if I’m alone in the house (I can see the windows regardless of my position, so, foiled again, Mr. Dracula!).

Since I learned that sleeping on the left side can aid in digestion, this can pose a problem in preventing potential home invasions, as it would require me to face away from the door.  Thus, when I am alone in the house, I switch my pillows to the other end of the bed in order to allow for perfect digestion and invasion awareness.  And who says paranoia is unhealthy?

I also will not sleep with any body parts dangling over the side of the bed, thanks to my cousin telling me that there were monsters living underneath who would only attack if there was something to grab onto.  And, while I no longer believe in monsters, it's a habit that has stuck over the years.  Not to mention that I keep a special "anti-monster" spray bottle on my nightstand, just in case.

I'm kidding on that last bit.

There are other lesser quirks I have, which is, I know, hard to believe, but I will end this here, before you all go running to the local asylum to make a referral.  I’ll save the superstitions about cracks (broken backs) and shower curtains (Psycho) and not letting a pole or object come between two people when walking together (bread and butter) for some other time.  It all sounds ridiculous, I know, but, if you get caught off guard by Dracula some day, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

p.s.  Themes coming back next week!