The librarian, her tea, and her quirks

In life, there is a continuum between money and time. Most people, in order to make the amount of money they want to have in their lives, must sacrifice time. Those who want lots of time must give up money.

Money’s good.
No time for writing.

It doesn’t help that the dreaded moment has come—my work life and personal life have blended together, and I’ve started making friends that cross that boundary. This is new and interesting. I’m not used to socializing, nor having co-workers that I might actually want to spend time with. I’ve even invited a couple to PHE. It makes me wonder what I can say here, though.

Speaking of PHE, the party that ate the northern hemisphere…I think we’re set. Two bartenders, one culinary student, and Little OCD Me twitching over it all. I fully expect to be fired from my own party.

On Thursday.

Right now, I’ve got nothing. Work is eating my brain at a prodigious rate. I haven’t had a lot left at the end of the day since—well, October. I’ve missed out on a lot of locals gatherings, and I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that the only people who have talked to me much lately are the ones who have managed to memorize my somewhat-unwieldy work address.

But Jeff gave me this gift, this funny silly little gift, that just makes me laugh and sums up how much has changed in the past few months. It’s a mug that celebrates what I’ve become. It’s a white mug with the Dewey Decimal number for tea on it. What’s even better? I work in a building full of people who get the joke.

So, since I’ve abandoned you, and had no energy for writing, I’ll give you something silly.

Courtesy of Joyce, ten strange things about me that you might or might not know. Too obvious to make the list: I am a compulsive list-maker, my left foot has toes that are crossed, my fingernails bend backwards and I like to use the ace and the queen of hearts as a signature because I’m the only person I know who can accurately use two playing cards as her initials.

  1. I am terrified of fire. I was in a house fire. Once was enough.
  2. The sound of crunching ice makes me violently twitchy. I can’t stand to be in the same room as someone who does this.
  3. I cough or make a small noise before entering a room that I know is occupied, in the hopes of not startling the occupant.
  4. My eyes each see color slightly differently. I can’t always see it, and I have to be in an area with lots of white space, but one eye perceives things with the slightest of bluish tinges and one sees things slightly warmer and redder.
  5. I have a bumper sticker from a convicted felon on my filing cabinet. (Jim Guy Tucker.)
  6. Some words are inherently funny to me for reasons that I can’t explain. ‘Susurrant’ is a good example. ‘Penguin’ made me laugh before the little waddlers became my unofficial emblem.
  7. I react to the smell of cucumbers and pickles the same way that I react to crunching ice.
  8. I have a mild allergy to an unknown component in yellow gold, which I discovered when I had my ears pierced as a child. As a result, what little valuable jewelry I own contains white, not yellow, gold
  9. I learned a few months ago that ‘domesticat’ is the only name I’ve got that’s really mine. My first name was my great-grandmother’s. My middle name was my mother’s. The first half of my surname, my maiden name, turned out to be an unrelated name my grandfather picked up after his mother’s remarriage. The second half of my surname I picked up by marriage.
  10. For years, the same what-if dream woke me from a sound sleep many times: I dreamed I had a chance to go back and re-decide whether to stay an English literature major or switch to information systems. (For those of you who didn’t know me then, I switched.) I knew I was never sure about my decision, because my unconscious kept re-examining it. Since I became the webmaster for a library, the dream hasn’t recurred once. It’s as if the decision, and the process that caused it to come to pass, finally rests easy in my mind now.

Life’s okay. Life’s hectic. The best way to reach me these days is to call me. I’d like to write a Christmas entry, but I think it needs to be private; I suspect many of my words will be saved for PHE.

May the holidays find you safe, well, and surrounded by those you love. Wherever they may be.

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Comments

joyeuse13's picture

Nice to be an inspiration. :) I will try not to crunch ice or pickles around you. Re: #10: isn't it weird the way sometimes all of your life-stuff converges? I can't figure why I never thought to go to school for adult ESL-education before. It seems so utterly obvious now.
domesticat's picture

I don't care if you crunch the pickles or cucumbers as long as I don't have to smell them. The smell makes me nauseous. Lots of restaurants serve pickles with sandwiches, and judging by Jeff's reaction, the face I make when I gingerly hand over a pickle to him is quite a sight to behold.
gfmorris's picture

Oh, now I see ... I failed to click through yesterday, and you were already done. SNEAKY!
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