I’m not easy to live with. I think I’ve finally figured that one out. I mean, I thought I was. I thought I was agreeable, easy to get along with. I keep a clean house, I don’t leave dishes in the sink or clothes on the floor. I won’t go out for the day without making my bed. I do all the cooking, cleaning, shopping…I thought for the most part, I was, you know, perfect.
I know, right? That’s a pretty bold statement. But that’s how I used to think it was, living with me: easy breezy. Until last week. Until I found myself rearranging the centerpiece on the kitchen table until it fell directly under the kitchen light fixture. Back and forth, eyeballing it from a distance, and then back again to make minor adjustments.
Or this morning, when I shot daggers at my son for slurping his strawberry milk too loud. I mean, c’mon, that is obnoxious.
And I started thinking about all the things that drive me insane. Things that normal people might consider flaws. Every year, I take down the holiday decorations by myself because I decide in that moment, they need to come down. It doesn’t matter that I’m the only one home, and those boxes are heavy. Nope. I gotta do it – and not only do it, but make sure all the decorations are in the same exact spot as they were the years prior. And at the stroke of eleven p.m., whether its Halloween, Christmas, Thanksgiving or yes, even my own birthday, the decorations come down, and stored back up in the attic, until the next holiday arrives. Like it never happened.
I’m super impulsive. And not just over a little thing, like, “let’s go for ice cream.” No, it’s more like, “Mom, you should trade in your Mercedes and get a new Jeep.” And later that night, buying one. Or seeing a storefront that was for rent, and leasing it, with no idea for a business or business plan.
And forget leaving magazines and mail on the table, counter or by the front door with the keys. I would rather throw it away, or hide it, than leave it as a scattered mess. Not a big fan of clutter. So I end up tossing it in a drawer, and then when I need it, I completely forget where it is that I’ve hid it.
I don’t like the sound of chewing. I don’t like the sound of liquid being sucked from a straw when clearly, said liquid is gone.
I drive fast. I know I shouldn’t. I listen to my music super loud. While driving. While cooking. While sleeping – well, okay, not loud, but still. I’ve been told that I hog the covers. I get hot, then cold, then hot again. I’m in a constant state of pulling covers over my body and pushing them off with my feet until there are no covers on the bed at all.
I can be stubborn. Opinionated. Self-righteous.
I have my moments of ugly, needy, insecure.
I don’t like heat. I don’t like extreme cold. If every day could be 60s and sunny, with a Fall leaf thrown in for good measure, I’ll take it.
I know, I know…way to talk myself up. But this is about flaws, and if I’m being honest, I gotta say, after writing these down, it seems I have many.
We all have some form of imperfections. We all have some degree of different. Don’t we? And at the end of the day, it’s our differences that make us unique. It’s those imperfections that make us perfect.
So while I have flaws, I have qualities too – good, solid, attagirl kind of qualities.
But that’s a story for another day.