Thing 1 and Thing 2 and Thing 3, Etc.

I'm afraid of circus peanuts. Yes, the spongy orange/pink numbers that are made out of sugary insulation and held together by toddler tears. I don't know what it is about them, but I've never been a fan. It's important that you understand that it's not unusual for me to be put off by things that are completely harmless, and that bring joy to many untainted souls. I own the fact that I more than likely have a touch of the ol' OCD, though I've not been diagnosed. Bet you can't guess why I've never been diagnosed? That's right--nonplussed with tongue depressors. Couple that with a serious case of irrational superstitions and you've got yourself a neverending soiree of angst and neuroses.

What follows is a list of the, shall we say, unconventional fears/quirks that I've had or have. If you can make head or tail of them, I'm always up for amateur psychoanalysis. Hell, it's a party game at my house. Anyway, enjoy:

• Carraway seeds. When I was little, I would wither inside when my mom made my sandwiches with rye bread. And Mary help us all when she would bring home carraway bagels. I felt like I was eating petrified ticks.
• Representations of elephants. Real ones are just fine, thanks, but elephant statues and paintings, especially trunk down, keep me unsettled 'til the morning light.
• Unwrapped straws in the dispenser at the movie theater or in a cafe. I'm not a germophobe in any other aspect of my life, but when faced with this dilemma, I have to open the top of the dispenser and get a fresh straw, rather than take the one already in the tray. I am well aware that some sweaty teenager who just harvested her acne probably put the straws in the top of the dispenser, but for some reason I've made peace with that.
• Any sort of bug on one of our pets. We declared war with fleas about six months ago. Through vet recommendations and frantic home and pet treatments, we triumphed, but every time I see one of the kitties innocently scratching, I can feel my chest start to turn in on itself and the voices start to whisper sweet nothings about bleach and vet appointments. (Product Placement: Advantage is a miracle treatment for the feline crowd--highly recommend).
• Singing in bed. BAD. LUCK. I can't do it. Not that there's really any cause to do it, but even when I'm babysitting and singing the little one to sleep, it has to be in a chair, not by the places where they sleep.
• "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil" monkey statues. I will turn my back on you always, you creepy little poo flinging imps.
• Waning moons. Rarely will I start new projects during a waning moon. Example: If I'm in the middle of a book and the moon starts to turn, that's fine, but I'd rather wait the two weeks until the new moon to start one. I've been bothered by the fact that I started this blog on the day after a full moon since I did it, but for some reason that day felt like the right day (another "thing" I have is internal timing--if I feel something is right, that feeling trumps all other things on deck).
  
• The Cheshire Cat. Terrible burden of a beast, that.

And there you have it. This is by no means the full list, but it will do for a starter. I'm lucky enough not to be hobbled by these oddities, but they do affect my choices more than I'd like them to. They're part of me, so rather than fighting them, I've acknowledged that unrelenting sanity is an alternative route to success not paved for my kind.