My Sincere Apathy for Showering

I do not like showering. This is not logical. I like being alone, and I like being clean. I do not like showering. I wish that there was a way to be efficient while showering, because showering is like a vacuum of time.

I suppose at the root of this is that I have to comb my hair in the shower, which is a dreadful task and makes my showers twenty minutes long. So not only do I have to inflict pain upon myself, I am cold and probably am going to be hated by every eco-friendly person in the world.

It is a terrible thing to be me, my friends.

Reciprocation. . . erm. . . .

Remember the days of preschool when you would regularly go over to someone you barely knew's house? I'll let you wince while you remember those hectic days of glitter glue and sprinklers. Eek. And remember how you would reciprocate? Key word, that is. Reciprocate. You know, returning the invitation(s).

Well, in my days of why-are-you-so-surprised-that-I-stay-peopled-out-for-three-weeks and I'm-still-friends-with-you-I-just-need-a-break, I have forgotten the art of reciprocation. This only occurred to me in the middle of July, of course. I've been to a couple of people's houses and haven't reciprocated once, and I did not have a birthday party.

Of course, this is just because I found out that I don't like seeing people all the time, but it is a bit embarrassing.

Organizing is nice until SOMEONE messes it up

I am sure that you all already know that I like to organize. Not necessarily my room, but it's a work in progress.

However, my email is so organized that it scares people. I have filters and folders sorted into patterns sorted into colors sorted into labs. It is like the FBI of emails. You know, secret documents in big rooms. All sorted perfectly. Emphasis on PERFECT. But then the hoity-toity Gmail team has to RE-ORGANIZE IT. Well, they redid the layout. Very annoying.

I am an introvert, as I have already expressed many times, and one of the big info-rules is that introverts do not like people messing with their organization. This is why I freak out is someone erases with the wrong side of the eraser or presses down too hard when using my pen.

So now I must live with my ugly email. Sigh.

Oh, the life of the insecure.

I have to go feed my pirahnas, yup, that's why I can't come over. . . .

Evidently, once you become acquaintances with someone, they expect you to invite them to your house. Or, if you are particularly obstinate, they will invite you to their house.

This alarms me. So every time someone invites me to do something, I try to find a lame excuse to get out of it. Sometimes it works. Other times it makes people hate me.

I am an introvert, meaning I like to be by myself. Extroverts like PEOPLE. PEOPLE PEOPLE PEOPLE. And they want to talk, which I'm fine with. I can talk a lot. But I also like to sit down and read with my friends. Surprisingly, no one else likes this. IT WOUNDS ME DEEPLY.

I also am infamous (meaning famous in a bad way, not very famous. Mother Theresa is NOT infamous.) for getting out of sleepovers.

Maybe someday people will come over and read with me outside. . . .

Someday. . . .