The other night I was minding my own business, reading a book as my husband tried to sleep. I say tried because sometimes (ok, almost EVERY time) when I'm reading, he can't seem to relax. He tosses and turns a little bit, pulls the blanket up over his head, fluffs his pillow numerous times, and finally turns to look at me. I try to ignore him, but then he gently takes my right hand in his, and just holds it. Then he squeezes it and rubs the back of my hand with his thumb. You might think this is sweet, but here's what he is silently saying to me in the midst of all of these seemingly affectionate actions: "Megan, I'm about to go nuts. FOR THE LOVE OF MY SANITY AND FOR THE SAKE OF MY EXISTING CHILDREN AS WELL AS ANY UNBORN CHILDREN YOU MAY ONE DAY WISH TO HAVE, STOP NOW!!" What is it that elicits this response from him, you might ask. Well here it is. I'm just going to lay it all out on the table. Face my demons. Confess to my addiction, and possibly ask for help.
I like paper.
There. I said it. Wow. Ok, now let me explain this little (no...big, huge, GINORMOUS) fetish of mine. For some reason, I really, really like the feel of paper. You know when you're just finishing up reading a page and you grasp the top corner of the page and rub it to make sure you only have one page, and then you turn the page? Well, I do that HOURS before I actually need to turn the page. I rub the corner of the page I'm reading, then move on to the corner of the next page, then the next, then the next. When the book I'm reading gets more intriguing or suspenseful or funnier, I start flipping through the corners faster and faster. Sometimes I'll even start doing it with both hands. And if the book has glossy pages, it's even better! HOW WEIRD AM I?! I have been doing this, and therefore annoying the crap out of people, for as long as I can remember. When I was younger and still living at home, my dad would slap my hand whenever he caught me rubbing the corners of my book. I remember unconsciously doing it at school and having people staring at me like I was a nut! And let's face it, I was! I didn't know how to stop the madness! I mean, I guess I could just stop reading, but then I might as well stop BREATHING too. So, I thought to myself, "Self, great day! Today will be the day you stop this absurd habit and learn how to read like a NORMAL person." And that was my goal. Here are the steps I took: #1- Admitted that I was powerless over my love of paper and that my reading time had become completely out of control. #2- Admitted to my husband (and all of you) the exact nature of my problem. #3- Became willing to have all defects removed. #4- Tried to apologize to those I had annoyed, specifically, my husband, my dad, and various librarians and college professors. #5-Made a concerted effort to keep my hands firmly attached to the sides of my book or magazine with fingers unmoving whenever I found myself reading. #6- Made a commitment to myself to help others with this same problem to overcome it. Wait...THERE IS NO ONE ELSE WITH THIS SAME PROBLEM! I stand completely alone on this one. (although, I kinda think my son is going to have the same issue. He seems to really like paper as well. Poor little guy.) So, how did it go, you ask? ... Hi, my name is Megan. I like paper. And I have a paper cut. Let's just say that I DIDN'T get it by trying to tear open an envelope. Please love me anyway.