Raging, Ranting, Raving, and Rhapsodizing

Here is my response to Beth's open-ended tag-post. Seven little-known facts about me:

1. I have to keep my food organized on my plate. For example, if I'm eating rice, chicken, and salad, each of those three things will be separated on my plate by a minimum of 3/4 an inch. I'll constantly push the rice back into a neat pile and try desperately to keep the salad dressing from spreading. And while most people will declare themselves finished while there is still 7 grains of rice, a cucumber slice, and a tiny shred of chicken left on their plate, I literally eat every bit, unless I decide I can't finish, in which case I will leave my unfinished food in their respective sections.

2. When the clock reads 1:11, 2:22, 3:33, 4:44, or 5:55, I kiss the wall and make a wish. This is a compulsive thing- I can't help it, though I have learned how to make it a bit more discreet. I will often kiss the tips of the first two fingers on my right hand and touch the wall (or window, if I'm driving), but I have to hold my fingers on the wall for a few extra seconds in order to make up for it not being an actual kiss. The wall behind my desk at work has little grubby fingerprints on it.

3. If I'm playing solitaire and someone points out a move I could make, I have to end that game immediately and begin a new one.

4. I cannot stand to have my belly button touched. Being poked in my belly button or in it's general vicinity makes me feel like throwing up. Stephen nearly learned this the hard way when he playfully poked my stomach and accidentally caught me directly in the belly button. We were at the airport on our way home from the disastrous tropical leg of our honeymoon. Thankfully, I didn't vomit, but everything about my face must have indicated that I was about to because Stephen backed up pretty quick.

5. I need both sides of my body to be balanced. I mostly notice this when I'm being forced to stand still, waiting in a line or something. I start to feel like I'm putting more weight on my left foot than on my right, so I shift to my right foot, but then that side feels heavier, and I just drive myself crazy trying to achieve a balance.

6. I cannot burp. At all. The closest I can get to a burp is a sort of gurgling noise. Furthermore, this matter has always distressed me. I greatly desire this ability which God saw fit not to bless me with. First, it is a gastronomic relief (or so I have heard). But mostly, it is funny.

7. Loathe. Detest. Abhor. I can't find words strong enough to fully describe the way I feel about packing styrofoam. The noise it makes, the way it feels on your hands... I got goosebumps just writing that. In short, it gives me the jibblies.

A special note: blogger's spell check does not like the word jibblies, but it offers wobblies as a possible substitute. According to Miriam-Webster:
Wobbly is a noun meaning: a member of the Industrial Workers of the World

Hahaha!