I can’t stand having ANYTHING on my feet - shoes, socks, slippers, none of it.
Socks go on just before shoes (ie, just before I head out the door), and come off as soon as I’m home.
Unfortunately, outside the house all I can really get away with taking off is the shoes, but I do that whenever I can, too…
I hate having any item other than a handkerchief in my back pocket.
I have extremely restless legs - I can’t seem to keep them still when I’m sitting down. This is apparently hereditary, since my 5 year old son does the same thing.
Someone upthread said ‘open cupboard doors’, and I agree with that! Open drawers, too (like if someone opens the silverware drawer to get out a fork, then only half-way closes it?)
I’m not a good housekeeper. In fact, I’m pretty bad at it. But open cupboard doors and open drawers bug the crap out of me in ways that general junk lying around never could! Don’t know why.
The phobia thing.
That is just freakin adorable.
I scream in my car because it’s the only place that’s safe to scream, and I find it therapeutic.
I did that through most of college and my first marriage . . .
heh, sorry you had to go through some tough times there. It’s funny how many I can list theat’s already been listed. I thought it was unique to me that I didn’t sleep in a bed for around 15 years. Shagnasty, do you have any understanding why you do this? Before I had a couch to sleep on, I was on the floor… and I don’t know why!? :eek:
I once Googled phobia’s and ‘The fear of beds’ wasn’t listed. I don’t fear *them *though…
I look for dildos and bottles of sex lube.
Seeing someone walk outdoors in socks gives me the willys. Bare feet, no problem. Socked feet on asphalt, grass, sand, anything- it makes me feel oogy.
Also, fingernails and townails really freak me out. If someone shows me a fingernail that’s ripped or cut partway across- even if it’s the part above the skin that was going to get cut off anyway- I have to turn away. The feeling of an edge of one of my nails dragging across clothing or any kind of material- instant shivers and I have to clip it immediately. I arm myself with clippers in my car, on my desk, in my ditty bag and on my bathroom sink, just so I’m never out of reach in case there’s a stray edge. I can’t even think about cutting my kids’ nails. One time in elementary school this kid who sat next to me had long fingernails and one day something he was doing caused one of them to bend backwards; just the tip, the part above his skin- and I kind of lost my shit. He thought it was hilarious and just bit off the offending part. I’m still squicked out by it to this day, some 32 years later.
If my wife breaks a nail in my presence and says “Oh, shit”, I’ll say “what?” She knows better though, and just says “umm, nothing” and leaves the room to take care of it. She knows it’s my kryptonite. She’s so awesome.
So, in other words, you’re casing the joints, gathering nefarious information for when you and your merry band of NE Ohio cat burglars procure unsuspecting Doper addresses, then know exactly where to locate the valuables—pretty shrewd, my sticky fingered* friend
*Sticky fingered: in the propensity to steal sense, you perverts. :rolleyes:
Tell me about it, slick! If I could figure out a way to leave Florida without making a left hand turn or stopping at a roadside dining establishment without encountering crumb littered butter or paradoxical 19th century photographs displayed on their walls, I’d have left this phobia-philic swampland ages ago.
BTW, my snoodle’s* name is Daisy, I find your choice of using that particular name a little disconcerting.
Wow, I thought I was the only one.
I don’t know how much money I make. I might be able to guess it within +/- $10K. I also have no idea how much vacation time I have saved up. Over the past 13 years, 10% of my income has been deducted from my paycheck for retirement, and I have absolutely no idea how much is in it. The last time I checked it was about 7 years ago.
Not sure why, but I just feel weird looking at my financial situation. I have absolutely no idea how much money I make, how much money I have, and how much I spend. My wife pays all the bills and keeps track of everything.
I won’t take the top newspaper off a pile (can’t is maybe too strong a word, but I just never do it), whether it’s from a vending rack or a stack of freebies.
I talk to myself in the car. Nowhere else. Just the car. Regardless of where I am in traffic. Even if I’m home alone I don’t utter a sound. It just feels weird everywhere but the car.
I don’t have any quirk whatsoever. It’s all you who are weird not to require at least one computer to be alive and whirring at all times because complete silence is creepy.
ETA : also, if you wear socks in bed, GTFO of my house. Now. I don’t care if you’re naked besides them, OUT !
I don’t usually, either, but I have a (good?) reason for it - we only buy a paper on Friday for the TV guide in it, and sometimes the top paper on the stack has had its guide stolen out of it (which is why nobody is taking it).
I do the same thing with magazines in the rack or any variety of things. But that’s because I don’t like the thought of how many of the unwashed masses have touched an item before me . . .
irl, I talk like Captain Kirk
:dubious:
I hate long sleeves and the sound of most people chewing or whistling.
