When last we met (well, almost every time we’ve met), I discussed a few of my husband’s little quirks. It’s probably my laziest subject – there’s not much challenge here. He has so many quirks and I watch him – and them – incessantly.
But fair is fair, so I figured I should now reveal some of my own little quirks.
I’ve spent days looking for them.
It is the curse of the writer to be so perfect and so normal.
If you are also a WordPress blogger, you may have recently experienced a surge in subscribers of the weirdest kind. Namely, of the nonexistent kind. I now have Followers who appear to be bloggers with no blog. I suppose I should be surprised by this, but in truth, it seems quite fitting that fictitious folk find me fascinating.
And then there are some subscribers who actually write a blog, but on subjects completely without connection to my own. News, Science, Weather. But then again, perhaps the weatherperson not only likes hailstorms but also false eyelashes.
But I digress.
And no, that’s not one of my faults. My digressions are – I’m sure – quite charming.
And anyway, this is not really a digression. There’s a point coming up, just a couple of sentences away.
Two weeks ago I gained yet another mysterious subscriber. This blogger has an actual blog. It purports to be a news site. But mostly it just reblogs some tasteless videos. You have to start somewhere though, so that’s okay. I’m sure you could go from whacked-in-the-nuts videos to the Pulitzer Prize. But I think this blogger might have a better chance of success if he were to try blogging in his own language. That English is not his first language is excruciatingly obvious. And humorous.
Especially as he describes his goal: ” To improve our perfections”.
And see? There’s the relation to this blog.
I can’t find any faults in myself.
But I can see a couple of places where I just might be able to – slightly – improve my perfections.
Like my phone skills.
I am not a phone person. My husband, however, is among the world’s greatest phone persons. I usually let him make my calls for me. I would have him call my girlfriends if I could.
For someone whose head is chock full of ideas I can write about, I can’t seem to think of anything to say when I am on the phone.
My conversation with my Mother goes something like this: “I’ll come over and we can talk then.”
Because I need to be face-to-face. I can’t talk unface-to-unface.
Because if you can’t see me, I can’t pay attention.
I’m sure I would do okay skyping. Because I’d know you’re watching.
But if I’m invisible, it takes approximately 46 seconds before my mind wanders.
Years ago, I used to watch TV while on the phone. And though you may be a sparkling conversationalist, let me confess: the TV always won.
And now with cordless phones, the possibilities are limitless. I can get a snack, neaten my underwear drawer, play online games, brush the cat, try a new lipstick, or watch one my husband’s annoying quirks.
I had a phone call at the office on Friday. It was important.
But even though there’s a cord attaching me to the phone and the phone to the desk, I can’t remember who it was or what they wanted.
Damn you, Grumpy Cat.
Anyway, if that was you I was not listening to, please don’t call me back. Write me an email.