I Reluctantly Admit...

1. I have an obsession with clothes. I have way too many already, but I still dream about that one perfect thing, be it sweater, sandal, hoodie, or pair of pants. I give more away as I get more, things that don't fit, but I'm still running out of things to give away, since childhood t-shirts that still fit and overlarge souvenir shirts can't be parted with. I dream about not having the right clothes, or trying to cover up, or not having a costume, or searching for just the write article of clothing.

2. I have an obsession with decorating. My bed - pillows, throws, bedding, sheets; my windows - just another scarf for yet another color; my walls - can I squeeze one more drawing in there?; everything. I decorate and redecorate and shift and move things around all the time. I wonder how that shelf would look with books on it...

3. I don't write thank you notes, or postcards, or letters, or, frequently, e-mails that I promise to write. It's not that I don't want to contact people, I am just that forgetful. Yes, I really am. I lose touch with people all the bloody time, and I hate it, but I just can't seem to remember a simple note. I don't remember to pay my bills all the time, either, but I try.

4. I love buying gifts for people, but I usually forget cards. Like today! Pucha! I forget to get anything for someone's post-birthday celebration tonight. Anyway, I like giving silly gifts, or thoughtful gifts, or books, or even gift certificates. I love seeing someone's face, or seeing them use something I've given them.

5. Nowadays, I can sleep in any kind of clothing, even in shoes; just not completely disrobed...it makes me uncomfortable. I never could sleep as a youngster, unless the pillow was proplerly cool, my pajamas weren't twisted, my socks weren't hanging off, a million little things. I had to line both sides of my body with stuffed animals, because I couldn't sleep without anything against my back. And the ones at the front protected me. As large a number as possible of stuffed animals would be shoved under the covers with me. If one fell out, I might wake up and pull it back in. I still sleep with them. They're there more for warmth, though, and to keep me from touching the evil, cold wall my bed is up against.