Returning to a semblance of normalcy

Mary Kate recently requested an update. I didn't think too much about fulfilling her requests (since I am doing her dishes...bitch), but her desire has taken on an entirely new dimension of urgency since she recently snapped a picture tastefully composed of a me, a dusty busty, a broken lightbulb, sans pants. I will let you figure out which one of those items listed was not wearing pants.

I have a feeling I will soon be fixing her meals and doing her laundry in addition to washing her dishes.

Anyway, what can I say? There's nothing I really want to desperately elaborate upon in blog. So, demonstrating a remarkable ability to regurgitate useless information, I shall turn to Freud to fill in the gaping hole yawning in my brain right now.

Recently in sosc we started reading Freud. Whoopdeedoo, I can tell everyone is impressed. We reached the neuroses section, where several peculiar neuroses are related very prettily and in great detail, with lots of prefixes and suffixes attached to simple words. I will not bore you with the details, but it got me to thinking about lots of people's neuroses.

Take, for one, my roommates.

SUPERFICIAL PSEUDO-PSYCHOANALYSIS OF MY ROOMMATES (SINCE I HAVE NO ONE ELSE TO OBSERVE):
JULIE:
Neuroses: being late, "dirty" things, things that have touched the ground in a previous life

The other day I was getting ready to go to school. I leisurely woke up, ate breakfast, checked the weather, my e-mail, wrote the great American novel, and got dressed.

Julie propelled herself out of bed, immediately sprouted 90 arms, finished dressing, eating, brushing her hair and teeth, and put her shoes on in 0.0003 seconds, and was out the door before I had even brushed my teeth. For me, multi-tasking is "WOOOHOOOOOOOOO PUTTING ON DEODORANT AND USING MOUTHWASH AT THE SAME TIME!" while for her, it's putting socks, eating, swearing, and blinking at the same time.

By the way, I was not late to class. In fact, we basically got to the same place at around the same time.

Why the worry?

KAT:
Neuroses: Things catching on fire, being overheard

I will be the first to admit I am a living, breathing, eating firehazard in the room. Who was the one who hung (several) things over firepoles, and ummm, put a hot iron away into a cardboard box tonight?

Me. And the iron was not too hot, Kat.

When we were painting the room and had to go around the firepoles, Kat's eyes got about as round as saucers and wordlessly handed me the rollers to go around the poles. I gleefully did a few pullups on the poles and proceeded to paint the walls hanging upside down from the poles. I am just not too worried about things catching on fire or breaking fire sprinklers for some reason, while others are.

Why the worry?

MARY KATE:
Neuroses: Flying...ummmm....shit....what am I forgetting?

Can't analyze only flying. Can't think of any for her.

I used to have stupid habits I'd HAVE to perform or I thought the world would end. Such as the whole stupid thing where I thought everything in my body had to be symmetrically experienced to go on living. Like, my right hand had to touch everything my left hand did, and my right ear had to be scratched the same way my left was. A bit hindering, but there nonetheless. And I still have to calculate the ages of all the artists I see in museums. I look like I'm terribly involved in the caption, but I'm really just doing mental math.

I have to take my laundry out now. What are YOUR neuroses?