I am not old.
Well, I’m kind of old. 31.
I guess it’s all relative.
But I’m definitely not old enough to need reading glasses. No, I can see things perfectly that are as close as five inches from my face.
The only reason I tell you that is so that nobody responds to this blog with the inevitable “it’s because you are old now and need reading glasses!”
I am not old.
Anyway… Now that we’ve cleared that up…
You know what drives me nuts?
When somebody sticks something that they want me to read or look at it right in my face. I’m talking an inch or two away from my eyes. I mean, do they really think I’ll be able to focus on it?
This has been a pet peeve of mine for as long as I can remember, and I think what drives me most nuts about it is that it always takes me off guard, and I always try to focus on it. I usually go so cross-eyed that I get a little mini-headache before I realize what’s going on. Then I always shake my head, clamp my eyes shut, and grab the offender’s hand to pull it a few inches further away. Usually accompanied by a giant and dramatic “whoa, there!”
I don’t know… does it bother you as much as it bothers me?
Maybe it’s that I feel like my personal space has been breeched as well. Who knows.
Yesterday I was out to eat with my friends. My buddy was going over the menu and got all excited about some fantastic sushi roll that he’d never seen before. He shoved the menu so that it was pretty much pressed against my nose. He got a big “whoa, there!”
My friend is 33 years old.
He should know better.
Of course, Noah does it all the time. He’s four. I find it much more forgivable. Except for the times when he’s sticking something putrid or disgusting in my face. Last week he thought I’d be super interested in his super interesting scab that he peeled off. This morning he thought I’d be super interested in his super interesting bug that he stepped on and picked up off the sidewalk. Tomorrow, if I’m lucky, it’ll be a booger.
I can’t say that I’m guilt-free in the whole “shove-crap-in-people’s-faces” phenomenon. Every once in a while I get my own “whoa, there!” (or variation of it) and I realize that I just did to others what I don’t want others to do unto me.
Which makes me feel better. And worse. Better because I realize I’m normal in my disdain for it. Worse in that I hate it so much and I still do it to others.
I’ll stop whining and let you get back to your day.
Dan Pearce, Danoah Unleashed
If you’d like to read more of my posts, and by more I mean daily, visit my main blog at www.danoah.com!