Someone will be telling me a story and some aspect of that story will remind me of something and I’ll think “I will tell that story when this person is done speaking b/c it relates to what they’re talking about.” When they finish, I will begin telling my story only to realize that the relationship between their story and mine is preeeeetty slim and quite possibly actually irrelevant. However I’ve already begun telling the story so I have to finish and then I either feel or look silly.
I so always do this, but I have gotten better at listening to the editor in my head who says “no Sara, your story really has no similarity to his/her story, shut up until you think of something better.”
Do any of us actually put our shoes away? I always take mine off in the bathroom, where they stay. I dream of a house with a huge bathroom/closet/laundry room.
Right now, I wheeze when I breathe out (severe bronchial infection). But I don’t hear it anymore cause I’ve been doing it for 2 weeks. Get funny looks in the elevator, as people edge away.
I have this insanely large storehouse of arcane knowledge and trivia. Which I must share with others at every opportunity. Whether they like it or not.
I flip my hair when I’m angry or feeling superior. I have long hair and this may be considered a weapon.
However, on a similar note (you did point out that you and Mrs. Gaffer exchange a good deal more than lip residue, hee hee), I do have a boyfriend who tends to misplace things. Must be the combination of his swiss-cheese-for-brain when it comes to mundane stuff (he’s brilliant when it comes to everything ELSE though; one of those “absentminded professor” types) and operating out of three different states: the one where his house is, the one he works in, and the one he visits a couple times a month (the one with me and his family in it). Well…
He couldn’t find his toothbrush in his backpack on one of his visits, so I just said to him, “Go ahead and use mine. It’s not like we’re not constantly swapping spit anyway!” But it really doesn’t bother me. I wouldn’t share my toothbrush with anyone ELSE, mind you, but with HIM it’s OK.
I’m sure your wife would be pretty horrified if you told her that one, huh Ol’Gaffer?
Well, since I’m already here…as to MY annoying habits, that depends on what you’d consider annoying. If you’re a neatnick, I’d annoy the hell out of you (to whoever said he/she doesn’t wash dishes until they’re borderline sentient, that’s me too). But of course, if you are a neatnick and I had to live with you, you’d drive me crazy too.
I talk about medical stuff. A lot. This can be specially annoying to someone who doesn’t understand the jargon. It is basically rude to do this. I can’t help myself.
Oh, I’d LOVE this! Hope you wouldn’t be annoyed if I threw in a bunch of microbiological rejoinders, and I’d be especially overjoyed if you liked discussing these sorts of things over dinner in all their gruesome detail. No, I’m not asking you out (I’m smitten with my Pack Rat). I just want you to know that I would NOT consider this habit of yours annoying in the least.
Hee hee. I bet you’d love the way I twist the lyrics to songs to make them “biohazardous,” then. Singable and scientifically accurate, too. I could help you with your “bad habits,” you know.
One time I went out to dinner with a neighbor and a friend of his who was a med student doing his residency (I think it was: this was a long time ago). We were all in this nice restaurant and we were all going on, rather loudly, about the med student’s experiences. Rather loudly (we had a couple of drinks with dinner). When it got to the point where the med student was talking about his ob/gyn rotation and said he’d learned to distinguish feminine yeast infections from bacterial vaginosis by smell (and I had to volunteer that Candida albicans was the yeast which usually caused the former, while lactobacilli were frequently involved in the latter), one of the waitresses came to our table and asked us to please be quiet because the other patrons weren’t appreciating our dinnertime discussion.
Oh…would “grossing people out” be considered an annoying personal habit?
I leave “hair art” on the wall of my shower. I don’t want it going down the drain but I end up forgetting it’s there until days later.
I read when I eat. I’ve had to change this because I have a small child that eats when I do and she likes mommy to sing and entertain her at mealtimes. It’s not been a sacrifice though. My mom always hated it while I was growing up because she constantly feels the need to fill silence with talk. Now THAT"S annoying!
I am a clutterbug. Not messy gross, just have a lot of stuff. Light packrat tendencies, I save almost everything.
My floor is also a closet, I’ve got a few laundry baskets for this pile, that’s clean… that pile is clean darks, that pile way over there is clean kiddo clothes, and that pile waaaaay over there is dirty. Get the system?
I hate doing dishes but I hate taking out trash more. The dishes get done, the kiddo’s been good for these kind of changes but I have to lecture myself on getting the trash out. I used to hang plastic grocery bags off the pantry door to the utter fury of my mother. I have no idea why that pissed her off so much.
Recently, I’ve stopped answering the phone unless it’s my SO or a friend. I don’t like taking calls from mom or others. I’m on the phone so friggin’ much due to my daughter’s therapies, doctors, agencies… you name it, that I HATE being on the phone if I don’t have to be. Any parent of a special needs child knows that phone calls are part of the package. I accept it but have stopped calling people for fun… except my SO… because I love him.
I am sure there are more to add but I can’t think of them right now.
I subconsciously make a face at people who are saying something stupid to me in social situations. My ex-wife used to elbow me in the ribs and whisper “You’re making that face again.” Apparently my jaw drops open and my countenance assumes an expression of sneering disbelief.
Another thing that bothered my ex was that I licked my steak knife if it had juices on it. To her it was the equivalent of watching someone lick the edge of a piece of paper.
Come to think of it…if I spent less time licking my knife and more time licking my… well let’s just say I’d probably still be married.
