Why is it that having music during a run doesn't bother me but having music at the pool does?
Why is it that having the radio on in the car is fine but having the any volume on my GPS is most definitely not?
Why is it that my ring fits on one finger in the morning, a different one in the afternoon, and then back to the first one again in the evening and overnight?
Why is it that I insist on washing out my coffee mug before I put more coffee into it but I'll drink out of my water bottle for two weeks before I put it in the dishwasher?
Why is it that I won't drink wine if the bottle isn't open, won't eat the nutella if the jar isn't open and won't nibble on crackers if the bag isn't open? I am an adult, it's our house, our wine, our nutella and our crackers. I can open them whenever I want to...yet I don't.
I will, however, open a new package of cheese, yogurt or nuts with no hesitation.
Why is it that nail polish stays on my toes for three weeks and my fingers for two days?
Why don't I care if the bowls are lined up straight in the cupboard or that my socks aren't super organized in my sock drawer but yet my running shirts are all folded and put away in piles based on sleeve length?
Why do I readily donate clothes that I no longer wear or that no longer fit and yet I hold on to running hats that are so old I can't wear them anymore and old purses that I know I will never use?
Why do I always dig my heels in every time the person I love suggests I try something when I know full well the suggestion makes sense and I'll end up doing it...and liking it...eventually. Can you say golf? Curling? iPads? Keurig? Duathlons? (By the way, I'm getting better at just saying yes even when I want to say no. It saves time that way since I'll end up saying yes eventually and being glad that I did.)
Why is it ok to read the papers on our iPads at breakfast but not ok to even glance at them during dinner?
Why do I happily sport my insulin pump on my belt or my bathing suit and feel proud when someone looks at it and yet am embarassed if someone notices that I wear compression socks under my pants?
Why do I have eternal patience for some tasks (like waiting for sweet potatoes to bake or ironing clothes) and why do I have to always cultivate patience with other tasks (like waiting for bread to toast or water to boil)?
Why am I horrified by scary movies and refuse to watch them and yet am fascinated with Dexter? And why is it ok for him to kill people? In fact I'm always glad when he rids the world of another bad guy...by stabbing them in the heart. Seriously?
Why do I love reading so much that I often only read one chapter at a time to drag the book out longer?
Why do I put hand cream on all the time to keep my hands feeling silky soft and yet refuse to wear gloves when digging in the garden, painting or tying back rose bushes?
C'est moi - la femme des contradictions.