Ok, I’ll admit it…

…right here in public for everyone to see.

I’m weird.

True story.

I have my clothes hanging by color in my closet and my DVDs alphabetized. But I hardly ever have a clean kitchen floor and it drives me bonkers to take the time to make tater tots in nice neat rows for a casserole.

I like to write my dates like this: 25 August 2012 which is European instead of August 25, 2012 which is American. And I am oh so very American. I also wish we were on the metric system because I can always remember there are 1000 meters in a kilometer, but never how many feet are in a mile. Plus I never say it’s however many miles anyway; I always measure distance in time. As in, “It’s about 20 minutes to the grocery store.” or “My aunt lives 8 hours away.”

I love chocolate. I’ll eat Nutella right off the spoon. I adore milk chocolate, dark chocolate, my grandma’s recipe for hot chocolate syrup, but I really, really don’t like chocolate cake or chocolate ice cream. If that is the only kind offered, I won’t even have any! Cake! or Ice Cream!

I read a lot. I am on a first name basis with all my librarians who automatically pull my holds when I walk through the door (I know! They are THAT awesome!) But I have some sort of aversion to buying books. As in, I never do. Unless they are a quarter at the library sale or part of our homeschool curriculum (shout out to Sonlight right there). As in, we checked out Everywhere Babies probably 30 times before I finally decided it was buy worthy.

One of my pet peeves is discovering everyone left their toothbrushes out on the sink after they’ve all gone to bed. It doesn’t seem to bother me to step over my own shoes for the third day in a row however.

I don’t really like tea that much. But I wish I were a tea drinker. I love the image that tea seems to personify for me: a mama sitting at a tidy table, gentle breezes blowing in through the crisp lace curtains, a canary singing softly in the corner, red geraniums on the window sill and a calico kitty purring contentedly on the lap while the children joyfully-yet quietly– play with their handmade wooden toys at her feet. In fact, I buy into this image so much I have an entire cabinet shelf dedicated to tea of all flavors. Truly.

And yet, my sick little tea fantasy never comes true. When I do make a cup, my children are still loud and squirrelly, I’m still allergic to cats and still a houseplant killer, canaries actually annoy me, I don’t even have any curtains, and the tea is found the next day half drunk and cold.

It’s true. I’m weird. I’m a walking contradiction. It’s a good thing I like me that way.