So, I have been doing some thinking, and on paper, I am pretty much an awful person. Examples:
I am chronically late.
Some of you might already know this because we have met in real life. I know, I know. Late people are jerks with little regard for other people's time. They're lazy and irresponsible and inconsiderate. I know. I have people like that in my life, too. But that's not me!
Okay, maybe it is me, but only accidentally.
I neglect to think about how long things take. We're meeting right after work? Cool, I can get there in fifteen minutes, with traffic... but I didn't factor in the five minute walk to my car. We need to leave for dinner at 7:30? Okay, I can be ready by then. Oh but I still have to feed the cat, find my keys, and find a jacket on the way out of the house. Oops, I guess that was an extra five minutes.
You would think since I know this about myself, I would be better at being on time, but it seems that no matter the circumstances, I am consistently late. I don't want to be late. I am just awful at avoiding it. My husband is one of those that has to tell me we need to leave five minutes before we actually need to leave so we're (mostly) on time when we go places together. He can't stand being late.
I'm a little... messy.
It seems that as a whole, bloggers like to clean. I don't. I hate it. I can't think of much that I take pleasure in less than scrubbing and dusting. I love having a clean house, but I don't like doing it myself.
This also carries over into stuff. I will get home and leave mail on the table. If I go to the gym, my water bottle will stay in a chair, untouched, until the next time I go to the gym. I can live with piles of clean laundry rather than putting it away and pulling clean dishes from the dishwasher as I want them, rather than putting them away, is perfectly acceptable in my head.
I realize that I am getting older and less of this needs to be okay. I mean, let's not even talk about my tiny office at work covered in paper and just... stuff. So I am working on it. Kind of. When my husband complains that I need to clean up, mostly.
I can be selfish... sometimes... mostly about things that don't matter.
When you're raised as an only child, you get used to certain things. When you don't finish all your cookies, you expect the remainder to be waiting for you next time you're hungry. Sometimes if you have an idea of what you want to do for the day in your head, you get a little inflexible when other people's plans don't fit in with that. What can I say - I always want the bigger half when something big is cut in two and I make sure to hog more than my side of blanket every night when I fall asleep. I think my selfishness is mostly seen by those who know me best. I try to stay on my best behavior for everyone else.
Basically, if I was writing a personal trait resume, I would never get hired as a friend. I kind of suck on paper. But we all have our faults and we are all our own worst critics and I know I do a pretty good job of hiding these things from most people. Just make sure you tell me to meet before you really want me to get there. Make sure you don't peek in my car because you'll see my mess. And please, we'll each order our own meal, okay? If we stick to that, I'll come across as a perfectly nice person. I promise.
Make me feel better - how are you bad on paper?