Thursday, December 3, 2009

Me of Little Faith

Obsessive.

Horribly, deeply and beyond normal obsessive.

Thats me.

Once I get started down a path I cant seem to change direction.

I guess the problem is I dont do well with unknowns. I need to know exactly what the story is and how its going to end before I read the first page. I'm surprised I enjoy some of the TV reality shows as much as I do.

But I get around the small inconvenience of not knowing who is going to be the Biggest Loser, Last Survivor, First to get to the pit-stop for this leg of the race etc by watching the last 2 minutes of the weekly show before I start at the beginning.

You may wonder why on EARTH I would do that.... its because it gives me a certain sense relaxation while I watch the show knowing that when so-and-so is professing that he has the perfect plan and knows exactly who is going home this week, I can be laughing knowing the plan has no chance in hell of working. I dont get worked up worrying and wondering whats going to happen.

See I told you I was a little on the over the top side.

It started long ago. I have this memory of when I was about to turn 5 years old. My parents had brought the biggest box I had ever seen and put it up on top of the refrigerator. They told me it was for my birthday party the next day and they were not going to tell me what it was.

No matter what.

The gauntlet was thrown down and I was never one to pass up a challenge. I can remember laying on the floor, crying, sobbing, BEGGING for them to tell me. I flung myself on the sofa. I curled up in a corner. I pulled every trick in the book.

And as to be expected my mother reluctantly gave in and brought the box down and showed me the brand new, totally retro, extra cool sleeping bag they had bought for me at Orbachs. I slept well that night. My parents on the other hand probably tossed and turned all night wondering what kind of little monster they were raising.

I have a picture of me at my birthday party the next day, lifting the lid with the biggest look of happy surprise on my face... as if it the contents were totally unexpected. I deserve an Oscar for that performance (either that or a good slap upside the behind).




In truth though, it wasn't so much that I wanted to know what was in the box because I thought it was good, I wanted to know what was in the box because I was afraid it would be something bad. Then I would have spent the whole night being excited only to be let down the next day when I opened it up and found out it was a years supply of knee socks.

I also know how to fix the "life is like a box of chocolates" problem too.... I cut all the pieces in half before I get started so I dont accidentally bite into one with marzipan or hazelnuts.

BLECH!

There are just some things I'm not willing to leave up to chance.

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