Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Itchy.

I have what some might term an obsessive personality. I don't wash my hands 50,000 times or touch every doorknob ten times before I enter a room. It's not that extreme. But when I decide I want or need to do something, it's all that I can think about...even when I am procrastinating and putting it off.

Case in point. I decided that in the midst of all my day job, writing columns, creating comics, and a couple of trips to see family and go to ComicCon, that I should create a brand for PMS. I spent every night for the last two weeks working on it. I denied invites to go out with friends, rejected a date (which wasn't really that hard to do as the guy was a little strange and only talked about his ex-girlfriend, his crappy roommate, and how much weed he used to smoke), and even blew off plans for a personal day with myself to just sit, in my pj's and type. I sent in a request to go live tonight, but I am still twitching wondering if the design is dynamic enough, spending the few hours til midnight dwelling on things that still need to be done (like collaborate on a PMS theme song with the lovely Bailee on ukulele.)

This morning I also broke a nail. I didn't exclaim in girly dismay at the loss of my long tip. I just got out my travel manicure kit and trimmed the unsightly, ragged edge and moved on with my work day. As I'm typing, though, I can feel the distinct difference in nail length and it is totally distracting me. My fingertips start to itch as I plot when I can sneak the kit out and even the playing field. My boss went outside to oversee a project, and I thought, "Do it now, Lauren!! He won't know any differently!" But the logical part of my brain said, "No, Lauren. Trimming your fingernails at work is weird. Someone could get a clipping and make a voodoo doll. USE YOUR BRAIN!" Though the logic side has won out this time, my hands are still twitchy and my eyes are drawn to the little stub on the middle finger of my left hand.

I never said I was normal.

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