But I really like you...

I have confessions that I’d like to get off my chest before I annoy anyone else that I care about:
1) I have a strange fascination with looking at my split ends. This sadly, has been going on for about 15 years. There is something so relaxing about finding the perfect split (or splits). This is a ritual I perform 2 places: in the car, or laying in bed, like reading a few chapters (words) in a book it’s something I have to do before I call it a night. Yikes! What’s even scarier is that if I find a tremendously damaged stand (a split on a split *5) I have to share it. Dave’s a good sport. He actually takes this hair like a precious jewel, analyzes it, and makes just the right comments. Like a champion with the blow dryer or hair bleach, I grin with satisfaction! Don’t worry, I have a lot of hair, but you know, I didn’t need contacts until I began this pursuit. Another thing, you don’t want to be in front of me driving. It can be a dangerous place, especially at a red light. Some times I gently (and regrettably) take my foot off the break in quest of the offending hair.
2) I lose things a lot: I know, it’s clique but this is disturbing to me. I lose my keys way too much for the average blonde. Before college I had a Mercedes (don’t get your hopes up). It was a 1974 Mercedes 450 SEL, the biggest, heaviest car made to date, with it came a key the size of a small dog. Didn’t lose this so much, but I when I did I just crawled through the sunroof that I had to leave open because the air-conditioner didn’t work and the horsehair leather interior a foul enough disgusting smell it acted as it’s own defense. I did lose my purse a few times in this car, but it didn’t matter because it cost so much to gas this mack daddy up there wasn’t anything in it anyway. (Side note: I got lost near Fair Park in Dallas which is a very unfavorable place to be for a very blonde, pasty gal like me to be, but I made it out safely because the windows were tinted so dark you couldn’t tell and if I leaned the seat back I fit in nicely as the neighborhood dope man.) Then college came and my parents didn’t let me have a car the first semester because of whole losing things issue – I did do well with apartment keys though. But, they got tired of me getting lost on the bus and dragging my sister with me through strange places in Austin, so I received the goods and was back in business! (?) Not so bad, but I am missing a camera, a watch, a couple of shirts (don’t ask) and a few wallets. I made it through college with a little less heavy pockets and one maxed out credit card, but still no REAL issue. Then came children and bless the brain that God gave me; it disappeared as fast as the keys. Gone: a planner, a wallet, a purse, Dave’s wallet, this makes me sick to my stomach… my Gucci watch (the Christmas present that Dave really shouldn’t have bought me because we were so poor) and two MP3 players both I left in the treadmill at Bally’s on 281, oh the curses!!! Once, I lost the keys while putting Will in his car seat and walking around to my side of the car. I have frequently left the keys on top of the car only to find them hours later. Even at 5’8 you can’t see on top of my Saturn SUV, promise. I’ve lost them in the shopping cart, in the diaper bag, in my purse in the car (too many pockets I tell you), in the refrigerator (wait, I was putting up milk) and the list goes on, but I don’t want to pain you. There’s a happy ending though, after an extensive and unfruitful internet search of the Whistler (don’t laugh, my Grandma had one ((it must be genetic)) I discovered a Jingle Bell. My keys are now at the end of rope and when I set it in my purse, it satisfyingly jingles. Before the panic starts all I have to do is shake my purse at little and a calm washes over me!
3) I could keep going, but I fear this annoying habit of dragging things out (and beating them to death) might really run you off so I am out of here.