Confession Tuesday: The Quirkiness Edition (The Cheese is Out of the Drawer & Pass Me Your Spoon)

Dear Reader,

I confess I've been thinking a lot about quirkiness lately.

We each have them, weird things about ourselves that others either adore or can't stand, things that make us unique, who we are.

I have been described as a cross between Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang Theory and Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally.  If you ever have lunch with me, you will completely get this.

And I completely get this.  I have certain routines I always do.  Like have Total Raisin Bran for breakfast and muesli with yogurt for a mid-morning snack.

My spontaneity is usually planned (something I'm working on...)

For a long time, I was embarrassed about my quirks--

For example, if there is a stack of plates, I will choose orange (even if it's on the bottom) or if orange is not available, I will choose the color that I most connect with at that moment.  Many people just take the top plate.  I cannot do this.

I also do this at our frozen yogurt shop.  If my husband and daughter get the green and yellow cup, I will take pink so they are all used.  I also collect all the recycled spoons after the frozen yogurt has been eaten and store them in my purse.  Last week, after my entire family went to Menchies, I had twelve spoons that looked like this in my purse:

And here's what I loved about the experience-- I didn't even have to ask.  When my family finished eating, they just passed me their spoon.  Even my sweetest, youngest nephew at age three, passed me his spoon, it was just how things are.

I confess I love spoons.

But I know my quirkiness can be strange to others--

If I sit somewhere in a group setting, I always want to sit in the same place if we meet again.  (Yes, like Sheldon, I have my "spot.")

I cannot stand to see the microwave with minutes left on it and have to hit the cancel button when I walk by it.

We have a "cheese drawer" - yes, a place in our fridge that is just for cheese and when I see cheese on a shelf and not in the drawer, it makes me anxious until I put it back in.  Maybe I'm afraid it's trying to escape, I'm not sure, but it gives me a knot in my stomach if the cheese is not in its drawer.

I refer to the remote control to our TV as the "fast-forward" and say things like "Can you pass me the fast-forward?"  For some reason, this annoys my family as if I'm plucking the wings off butterflies.

I am easily distracted in the middle of telling a story.  Usually by birds or something in nature.

I can be a crazy perfectionist on certain things and an absolute slacker on others-- it depends how I care.

But I love things in order and keep my poetry books alphabetized.

(By the way, if you are a perfectionist, this is a great help:

Work on being more flexible by practicing the “80% rule”  When I’m working on a task or project, instead of obsessing about making it perfect, I’ll ask myself, “Is this 80% good?” If so, I let myself be happy about what I’ve done and move on to the next thing.

Here's the full post by Elana Miller.)

I'm no longer embarrassed about my quirks, but instead just see them as a part of me.  And sometimes I like them because it keeps my life interesting.

Occasionally I will reel them in a bit when out with people.  Well, except for ordering food, but I will speak quietly to the waiter so I don't seem like a complete nut to the rest of the table.

I must give my husband credit for staying with me as long as he has--though I never mention "the cheese is out of the drawer" because it's just as easy for me to put it back in.

I think poets, writers, and artists are quirky people and that's why I like so many of them.  And it's great to be around others who just accept you for your weirdness.  And even love you for it.


~ Kells

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  1. Yes! Love this.

  2. Yes! Love this. Glad to hear there are folks in your life who simply hand you their spoons.

  3. I have a cheese drawer as well. It is not odd that you want all the cheese in one place. I want the different cheeses to keep each other company. Quirky is just a matter of perspective.


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