Argh, yes, the boxes are still in the corner. They haven't made it to the trash bins yet.
So, I've been whining to like everyone about how that evil bitch of a woman in payroll at the ed school wouldn't just freaking end my employment there so that I could be hired by the anthropology department and get things like, I don't know, my PAYCHECKS and a PARKING PERMIT. But finally, after four days of haranguing, she finally did her job. So while now I get money and have a place to park, unfortunately now my email is listed on the anthro course website and ARGH, talk about a DELUGE of emails from students already in the twelve hours my email has been made available. I mean, we don't even have section until next week. Leave me alone until then please. And stupid freshmen, do not be so presumptious that you assume you can call me by an abbreviated version of my name. I'm so not okay with that.
But anyway, since Alex tagged me, and I am BRAINDEAD from this week (can't you just wait to see how I am after I actually have to really teach too, which is, did I mention it yet, next Friday?), and just the slightest bit hungover, here we go. (I mean, it's not like this site doesn't already catalogue my bad habits.)
- I tend to strip off all my clothes as soon as I get in the door. You'd think that because I go shopping so much, it must mean that I like clothes and wearing them. Not true, my friend. While I do like clothes, I really don't like wearing them that much. I shed clothes like a snake sheds its skin, and leave them in a trail as I walk across my apartment. It starts with the shoes at the door, bags and purses at the dining room table, then the bottom half somewhere around the couch and my top as I approach my bathroom. This must just delight my neighbours across the way. The clothes-shedding wouldn't be so bad, but then I wait until the end of the week, or for company to come over, whichever comes first, before I bother putting anything away. So by the end of the week, half of my closet is on the floor of my apartment (okay, it's more like a small fraction, since I have a large closet). Obviously, when I had a roommate, I kept my clothes on until my bedroom, but the shoes. Ah, the shoes are a veritable obstacle to getting to the door, no matter with whom I live. (See above pictures for proof of the mess.)
- I realise that I stamp my foot when I'm being petulant/whiny/expressing my displeasure or when I've been thwarted. Do not thwart me, I don't take well to it. But anyway, the foot-stamping. Usually, it goes something like this: "It's just NOT [stamp concurrent with not] fair". Or, "She makes me SO [stamp] mad". I mean, really. Food-stamping? What are we, three? (The answer to that is a resounding YES.)
- I talk to myself. Very quietly. In public. Not all the time, but every once in awhile. People think I'm crazy. Sometimes I don't even realise that I'm doing so until I've done it for awhile. Now, if you're up on your developmental literature, this is a definite hallmark that I've not yet hit the stage where my private speech becomes silent, inner speech. This puts me at, somewhere, oh, around elementary school developmentally. (Although to be fair, adults do resort to private speech when encountering unfamiliar or demanding activities. The thing is, I try not to engage in anything demanding.)
- Alex said that perhaps I'd have food-related bad habits. Here's one. When I am done eating, but nobody else is done yet, I will very meticulously separate my food into little piles according to what it is. It's fine when say, we're having pasta with cherry tomatoes or a mock salade niçoise, as everything is easy to separate. But, when, say, it's vegetable soup and I'm sitting there attempting to separate the vegetables from each other while they're still in the soup bowl floating in broth..
- I personally don't think that this is a bad habit, but I absolutely must have subtitles/closed captioning on anything I watch. Yes, even when the show is in English. If movie theatres showed subtitles, I would be over the moon. Other people think I'm weird, but they eventually see the brilliance of my ways. Or, really, they have no option when they're watching tv at my house. Maybe it is a family thing; my father and sister both insist on closed captioning with every show they watch and in fact, my father wouldn't give me one of the older tvs we have in the house because it didn't have closed captioning. (Not that I'm complaining - it meant that he had to buy me a new television. Buying a sofa for my apartment, this he did not see as a priority. But a television with closed captioning? He couldn't buy one fast enough. Other things my father deemed a necessity for my apartment: a paper shredder, a desk and desk chair, bookshelves, and shoeshelves. Things he deemed unimportant: dining room table and chairs, coffee table, and my bed.) Actually, you know, I think it was me that started both of them on this habit. I find that I focus that much better on the show if I have words to read. Or maybe it's also that I'm slowly going deaf.
So, who's next? Jen, Daniel, Sammy, Dagny, and Laurie. Although I am sure that none of you have any bad habits.