i am neurotic.

I always have to leave the room, and plug my ears after I’ve put somthing in the toaster. When I think it might be done I carefully peek back in the room. If it hasn’t popped yet I run as fast as I can out of the room to make sure it doesn’t pop when I’m there. It just scares me too much.

When I write out notes for my classes, I can never shorten words to things that are considered inappropriate. For example, I can’t shorten “standard” to “std” or “cumulative” to “cum.”

I can’t handle breathing noises. When someone breathes and I can hear audible whistling through their nose or exhalations from their mouth, I get SO painfully aggravated and anxious that all I can think about is leaving the situation as fast as possible.

I hate things that are asymmetrical. It bothers me to no end. Unfortunately for me, one of my legs is longer than the other, making one side of my hip bigger than that of the other side. This is noticeable, and you have no idea how much it bothers me. I am one of my biggest fears.

I hate escalators. I have missed job interviews because a ride on an escalator was required. If forced to ride…I have to step up three steps…and hold the handrail tightly all the way up. Going down is not an option.

i absolutely hate to have pine straw on my car. i will literally sit and pick it off my car before i go anywhere.

I get disgusted when I’m filling up my water bottle at the fountain and the water pressure drops when someone flushes a toilet in the nearby bathroom. I don’t like being reminded that the water used to flush toilets and the water I’m drinking come from the same source, even though I know it’s clean and perfectly safe to drink.

I absolutely CANNOT stand glitter. It is the herpes of Arts and Crafts. I hate the way that it gets everywhere and sticks to everything. If I ever get even a speck of glitter on me, I feel the absolute need to take a shower and wash all my clothes. Last year, my friend inadvertently got me a birthday card that had glitter on it. I freaked out. We are no longer friends.

I cannot bring myself to eat anything that has a sauce on it. (Marinara especially). Whenever I go to an italian restaurant I have to specify not to have sauce on the food I’m getting. I always get weird looks from the waiters, but the sight of it on my food make me want to vomit.

I can never bring myself to throw out any piece of paper I’ve written on until I am absolutely, 100%, without a doubt, entirely positive that I won’t need it. I say this as I stare at a phone number, wondering who’s it is, thinking that if I throw it out the person might call me and I’ll have no idea who it is. I also need to start writing down names with numbers.