When my husband gets behind the wheel of any car other than his own, his first move, before adjusting the seat or mirrors, is to turn up the bass on the car stereo. He doesn’t listen to the music first, he just knows that wherever the bass level is set, it will not be high enough. I get it. He’s a drummer. It’s one of his quirks. In my friend Karen’s family, they refer to each other’s (often annoying) quirks as “features.” I asked Mr. Rosenberg about my quirks. I thought he might name a few endearing little habits, instead I heard a list of my “features.”
I have a violent attachment to “my” chair at the kitchen table. Mr. R says that I am protective of my chair in a Big-Bang-Theory-Sheldon-y way. It’s a feature.
When we had carpets with fringe on the ends, I combed out the fringe three times a day to “untangle” it. Doesn’t everyone do this? No, apparently it’s another feature.
My sock drawer is organized so that the little faces on my adorable animal print socks are all adorably looking up. It’s a sock cuteness zoo. Fine. Feature.
Back when I was a single lady, I kept a vigorously clean apartment, placing everything just so. Before anyone came over, I would mess something up a little so as not to appear as if I had pathologically cleaned the apartment. This of course is it’s own pathological situation. Yeah. Feature.
I will only drink half a cup of coffee at a time. I may have four half cups (which is really only two cups) but the coffee will be from four different cups. Once the coffee is tepid, I’m out. And we have another feature.
Do not like showers. Part of me is always warm while the other half of me is cold. I know, I know. Feature.
I am always cold. I’m the one in the cardigan on a hot day. Mr. Rosenberg is always warm and insists on running the AC at all times. We’re really fun on a road trip. Feature.
I face my bills in my wallet and keep them in order by denomination. This is something else I thought everyone did. Guess not. Hello, feature.
I have hundreds of nicknames for my son. Feature.
My hair and the chances that a situation will get my hair wet or turn it into a damp, frizz,y hair-pile influence my life choices. More often than not, I will get in the pool, but only up to here. I’m told this is a feature.
How lucky is Mr. Rosenberg to have a wife with all of these fun after market extras? I tell him just how lucky he is quite often. I guess that’s a feature too.
My friend Ann has her quirk manifesto on her blog today too. You can find it here. She is a quirky delight.