A somewhat irrational phobia

I had to use a public restroom last night at a gas station.  One of my top 3 least favorite things to do.  I'm wondering if anyone else feels like I do about them?  I will use them when absolutely necessary, but I'm kinda scared of them. They just plain old creep me out.   I was reminded again last night of this and really started to wonder why?  I mean honestly, what's my deal anyway?  All I could think of is this list of stuff that goes through my mind everytime I have to use one. 

1. The soap.  I hate the soap.  It always smells like icky cheap band-aids.  But I MUST wash my hands so icky cheap band-aids it is.

2.  The Bathroom stalls.  I know they're supposed to offer privacy...and in fact they do...but to me the gap of space between you and the outside world might as well be the Grand Canyon!  I always feel like people might just walk by and strike up a conversation "Oh, hi Jen...didn't know you were in there."  "Good thing that space is so huge between the door and the stall or I would never have noticed your new haircut."  "Hey, are those new jeans your'e wearing?"  AHHH! 

3. The toilet paper.  How many of you know the old song..."One day at a time....sweet Jesus".  It's beautiful.  But it's been wrecked for me because now I sing "One sheet at a time".  It becomes a power struggle  between me and the huge black dispenser with the ginormous rolls of paper bigger than a pizza.  Sometimes when I use just the right amount of torque and flex I'll get 3 maybe 4 sheets off that puppy...makes me wanna yell "Ha I won, I won!!!"  The part that troubles me is how I feel I have something to prove.  To a toilet paper dispenser.  Really?  (wince)

I have more.  But I think for now I'll just share these top 3. Well wait...maybe just one more.  You know those auto flushers...the NASA version of all flushers with the motion dectector sensor? Yeah, well  I literally jump everytime one of those bad boys takes off.  I envision my scarf getting stuck and me getting sucked into the abyss. The thought makes me cringe. Can you even imagine the amount of soap it would take to clean me up then?  I'd have icky cheap band aid stench with me for weeks. Wonder if I need therapy?

Sweet Feet (NOT)

"It smells like feet in here!!"  My family is just used to me blurting this out.  That or other versions of the same phrase...."Gross, I smell feet."   "FEEEET"   "I smell feet again people!!" I'm not sure why I think I smell feet so often. Well, actually  no, I DO know why.... it could have something to do with the gym bag collection that gets left in the front entry.  This habit makes me so crazy I've been known to literally foam at the mouth and start things on fire with my death ray vision.  You know how weight lifters have those big veins that pop out of their arms, and necks...?  Yeah, well I'm pretty sure if you looked at my neck closely you'd think I was up for the Mrs. Schwarzenegger pageant.  When we were kids my brothers and I knew if moms' lower teeth showed ('the fangs') we had about 10 seconds until detonation.  When my kids see the neck vein, the foam, and the couch cushions smoldering....they know...."Uh oh. Mom smells feet!" Gross?  Yes.  Very gross.  We are big sports people around here...plus we have a family membership at the Y.  So gym bags, well, they are just part of life.  I have nothing against the bags.  In fact I love a blue Nike gym bag as much as some of my purses. (ok, that might be a stretch)   I just don't like said Nike bags in my entry.  Where they smell.  Like FEET!  I'm hoping that my children work harder at breaking this habit.  It's getting quite expensive to replace the couch cushions and my neck hurts.

Please *don't* be quiet

I complain far too much about noise in my house.  True confession.  I have a husband and three teenagers.  I should not expect it to be zen-like around here.  I know this somewhere in my head, but usually I can't hear my head thinking because well,  it's too noisy in here.  I have a tapper, a drummer,  a 'beatbox sounding mouth noise maker'.  Then we have your usual humming and whistling.  Meanwhile in the kitchen we have crinkling bags, and more crinkling bags and cupboards shutting  and dishes clanking.  Then there's the crunchy chip chewing.  Don't even get me started on that.  I need earplugs when the nachos come out to play. Oh and we musn't forget the favorite fork.  The favorite fork that must be used by one of my offspring every time they eat.  Of course said fork is never on the top of the stack of (perfectly good) other forks so we wake up China while rummaging to the bottom of the drawer.  Every. Single. Meal. 

So I had the house all to myself this past Saturday.  All day.  Until 11:00 pm.  RH was out of town, kids were at a retreat.  And wow....it was quiet.  Almost zen-like.  Did I like it?  Yes.  Did I love it? No.  Believe me I'm still shocked by this new found revelation.  I was reminded how much the noise in my life represents all the good things in my life.  Happy, healthy, hungry people.  A family that enjoys hanging out together. Why do I always think it needs to be so doggone quiet anyway?  So I'm going to embrace the noise of the happy people I live with and be thankful they are here to chew in my ear.  I might hide that stupid fork though.