....and I Thought I Had Problems.........

I'll come into the office with a purpose. Usually to get the pen that I left behind, or to check Google stats answer an email.

If I sit down in front of the computer long enough to hit "reply" my sneaky right hand invariably manages to hit the "open new window" button and somebody's blog will appear. How'd that get there? I'll check on just one blog. Then another.
And another.


It's the "Just One Potato Chip Theory" gone cyber.
Betcha can't read just one.


Jen from Buried With Children was nice and left me a comment. I visited her blog for just a minute and travelled on.


I ended up at a little spot aptly named I Am Neurotic.


And I thought I had problems.


I'd never wear shortsleeved shirts when I was a kid because I have pointy elbows.


My sister cuts every teeny tiny bit of white stuff off of whatever she's getting ready to cook for dinner. She thinks it's fat and can't tolerate the idea of swallowing it. But pink and white hamburger is OK. (Hey Stew, that really is fat.) Now I've grossed her out.


One of my friends must drive in the passing lane at all times on the highway. Doing 50 mph.
I found this out by letting her drive ONCE. That was a long trip with many rude-finger salutes from the drivers passing us on the right.


Spending more than a couple of minutes in the kitchen gives Mr. Sweetie the heebie-jeebies. He says it's the critters under his feet. I say it's because I'm going to put an apron on him and make him cook.

One of the dogs cannot go out the front door without sitting down to give himself a good scratching. This creates a doggy traffic jam.

The other dog is darn near blind a little nearsighted. If anything is out of place on the path to the front door he'll invariably run into it. (See above.)


My BFF will not get on a plane. We have driven two days to avoid a four-hour plane trip.


I used to date a blind guy. Going down stairs he'd tap his foot on the step before stepping down to make sure it was there. I find myself doing the same thing years later and I can see perfectly well.

One of the residents in the nursing home I worked at refused to get into an elevator. Ever. She had never been in one and wasn't going to start anytime soon.

Is thumb-twiddling neurotic? I twiddle when I'm the passenger in my daughter's car. It's the only time I do it. Drives her insane.

My brother cannot tolerate large groups of people, even if it's his family. This is the same guy that spent five-plus years on a ship in the Navy with umm large groups of people. He now lives on a tiny tiny island population 143. Hmmmm. Maybe it's just the "family" part that he can't tolerate. (just kidding Al)

What do you do that you can't not do?