These Eyes...
I have what I think is a slightly photographic memory. Which sort of balances out the slightly non-photogenic face and physique, eh?
It's not infallible, it's not applicable across the board and it seems to be limited to a certain spatial reference capacity. If I see something around me, and then the room goes dark or I close my eyes, I can almost unerringly home in on whatever item it was I was focused on and nail it exactly. I can't consistently shoot a free throw, hit a home run or even do simple choreography correctly:
Nor do I remember columns of numbers by heart or dates or events or even checkins from the programmers at work, but I rarely forget a face or a name and can usually recall them decades after the fact. However, where it most comes in handy is why I'm telling this story tonight, because it just cracked me up.
As I mentioned on Facebook awhile back, I often get dressed in the dark or semi-dark and that's why I wore my bra inside out for 3/4 of the day without realizing it. The reason for this behavior is because I raelly hate Venetian blinds, and love having a breeze in the place, so I often have both my window open and unblocked by curtains or other impediments. However, I also enjoy running around the house naked, so you see the conundrum.
(Btw, I'm not a nudist. I'd never inflict myself on other people's ocular happiness...but I also am pretty efficient in my habits, so if I get up and weigh myself after using the restroom in the morning...sans clothes for the most accuracy...and then go out to take my vitamins and eat breakfast before hitting the shower, I'll sometimes do that in the altogether just to save time. Which, I might add, drove the Bolivian crazy...as you might imagine. Even though I have none of the genitalia that set his OCD pinging, he still didn't like having food, hooch and cooch that close together.)
ANYWAY. I really don't intend to give the neighbors an eyeful at any time, so if I'm doing stuff in the buff (ooh, I think I need a new party and/or festival named that!), I'll often leave the lights off in order to facilitate the hiding of the bod while I putter around...which also means that I rely a lot on that mental image of "where stuff is and what not to run into" while in process. (I have black curtains from IKEA on my bedroom window but they are a bit flimsy and see-through, so lights-out definitely helps.) Tonight was an example of my faith in my mind's eye being tested.
I got home a little late from work as usual and got online, did some FB and blog reading, etc. and had a couple of glasses of wine. Around ten-ish, I then decided to wash my face and put PJ's on, and wandered into my room to manage the latter. I opened up my "PJ's" drawer and pulled out the pink plaid sleep pants right where I'd crumpled them this morning, and then felt around for a top that would be cool in this heat but covering enough that mosquitoes and the chill wouldn't creep in overnight. Something came up in my hands, and as I held it up in silhouette and stretched it from side to side, a loud and slightly wine-tinged "What the HELL is this?!" came out of my mouth.
It looked like a pair of panties that had been relegated to the back of the uns drawer for loss of elasticity or general unsportsmanlike conduct, but my mind was telling me, "No way would that be in there, this is your PJ's drawer! You'd never do that!"
Yes, the OCD is also strong in this one.
I turned it this way and that, poked and flapped, and after about two minutes realized it was a spaghetti-strap tank top I'd worn on Sunday and dropped it back in the drawer as though personally offended. But it wasn't until I'd rummaged around and grabbed the brown lightweight shirt I'd been trying to find that I realized this whole symphony of weirdness had been carried out in the pitch dark, and that most people would just...you know...turn on the light switch and neighbors be damned.
As the estimable Jason Larsen once said, "You do everything the hardest way possible." I do, and I don't know why, but it's entirely unintentional. The best part, though, is that sometimes it's also kind of fun.
It's not infallible, it's not applicable across the board and it seems to be limited to a certain spatial reference capacity. If I see something around me, and then the room goes dark or I close my eyes, I can almost unerringly home in on whatever item it was I was focused on and nail it exactly. I can't consistently shoot a free throw, hit a home run or even do simple choreography correctly:
Nor do I remember columns of numbers by heart or dates or events or even checkins from the programmers at work, but I rarely forget a face or a name and can usually recall them decades after the fact. However, where it most comes in handy is why I'm telling this story tonight, because it just cracked me up.
As I mentioned on Facebook awhile back, I often get dressed in the dark or semi-dark and that's why I wore my bra inside out for 3/4 of the day without realizing it. The reason for this behavior is because I raelly hate Venetian blinds, and love having a breeze in the place, so I often have both my window open and unblocked by curtains or other impediments. However, I also enjoy running around the house naked, so you see the conundrum.
(Btw, I'm not a nudist. I'd never inflict myself on other people's ocular happiness...but I also am pretty efficient in my habits, so if I get up and weigh myself after using the restroom in the morning...sans clothes for the most accuracy...and then go out to take my vitamins and eat breakfast before hitting the shower, I'll sometimes do that in the altogether just to save time. Which, I might add, drove the Bolivian crazy...as you might imagine. Even though I have none of the genitalia that set his OCD pinging, he still didn't like having food, hooch and cooch that close together.)
ANYWAY. I really don't intend to give the neighbors an eyeful at any time, so if I'm doing stuff in the buff (ooh, I think I need a new party and/or festival named that!), I'll often leave the lights off in order to facilitate the hiding of the bod while I putter around...which also means that I rely a lot on that mental image of "where stuff is and what not to run into" while in process. (I have black curtains from IKEA on my bedroom window but they are a bit flimsy and see-through, so lights-out definitely helps.) Tonight was an example of my faith in my mind's eye being tested.
I got home a little late from work as usual and got online, did some FB and blog reading, etc. and had a couple of glasses of wine. Around ten-ish, I then decided to wash my face and put PJ's on, and wandered into my room to manage the latter. I opened up my "PJ's" drawer and pulled out the pink plaid sleep pants right where I'd crumpled them this morning, and then felt around for a top that would be cool in this heat but covering enough that mosquitoes and the chill wouldn't creep in overnight. Something came up in my hands, and as I held it up in silhouette and stretched it from side to side, a loud and slightly wine-tinged "What the HELL is this?!" came out of my mouth.
It looked like a pair of panties that had been relegated to the back of the uns drawer for loss of elasticity or general unsportsmanlike conduct, but my mind was telling me, "No way would that be in there, this is your PJ's drawer! You'd never do that!"
Yes, the OCD is also strong in this one.
I turned it this way and that, poked and flapped, and after about two minutes realized it was a spaghetti-strap tank top I'd worn on Sunday and dropped it back in the drawer as though personally offended. But it wasn't until I'd rummaged around and grabbed the brown lightweight shirt I'd been trying to find that I realized this whole symphony of weirdness had been carried out in the pitch dark, and that most people would just...you know...turn on the light switch and neighbors be damned.
As the estimable Jason Larsen once said, "You do everything the hardest way possible." I do, and I don't know why, but it's entirely unintentional. The best part, though, is that sometimes it's also kind of fun.
As long as they don't spin me around, I'd kick all y'all's butts at Pin the Tail on the Donkey.
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