I’ve always had a weird attitude toward change, at least for most things (good changes include computer upgrades, lower gas prices, better recipes, etc.).
I don’t do well with spontaneity, for example; that’s very bad, and it’s a form of change. I don’t like to make choices on-the-spot (e.g., “Where do you feel like going for dinner?”). I hate that whenever I go to the store, I have a million different choices to make, especially if I’m considering making a switch from something I’m not exactly in love with. As such, I could spend hours at the store if I didn’t just force myself to pick a brand/size/color/etc. and get the heck out of dodge.
Recently, I ran into another change in my daily life. My boyfriend stayed with me the other night, which is always great, and he used my shower supplies. That wasn’t the problem, per se. That wasn’t the change. I didn’t mind that I had to share, that he used my bathing products; in fact, while this doesn’t really apply in this case, I realized long ago that one of the advantages of being gay is that you get to share a lot more without that sharing being just a bedtime ritual (i.e., a girl wears her boyfriend’s shirts and boxers to bed but wouldn’t dare wear them in public). I like the idea that when we move in together, after I finish my M.F.A., our wardrobes will essentially double. Well, actually, mine would probably triple, and his would—well, there might be a 66% increase or so, not quite a doubling. He has a lot more clothes than I do, as he, a fashion designer, should.
But the change! Here it is: When I went to wash my hair tonight, I grabbed the bottle on the right, squeezed the liquid into my hand, and ran it through my hair. And it was weird. Hard to spread, almost dry. What had happened to my shampoo? Apparently, when my boyfriend put my shampoo and conditioner back, he put the shampoo on the left instead of the right. Upon realizing this, upon actually reading the bottles, I immediately rinsed the conditioner that was half spread on the crown of my head, and started over with the correct bottle.
I then put each bottle back in its proper place, of course. We are creatures of habit, and I, in particular, need my habits intact.
Moral of the story: Don’t touch my stuff, and if you do, put it back where you found it—unless you enjoy watching me squirm when something changes. ;-)
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