1 post tagged “sugar packets”

Do you have a nervous habit?
Submitted by Herding Cats.

How about "finger fidgeting?"

Let me tell you a little neurotic story, an example of this nervous habit of mine and why I do it.

Well, when I'm slightly to extremely uncomfortable I have a tendency to fidget with anything my hands can find, like my scarf, jacket zipper, a straw wrapper, pen, paper napkin, any texture, anything at all. Then when worse comes to worse and I can't find anything for my fingers to fidget fiddle, my fingers fidget fiddle themselves.

I get slightly to extremely uncomfortable when people get too close to me. For example I was at my old job the other day, Starbucks, getting a tall drip with room. My old boss comes up to me, being very nice (to my surprise) and she enters what I like to call my "bubble."

My Bubble is my neurotic little safety sanctuary.

So, my boss is standing in my Bubble, invading my sense of safety and security, asking me how I am and what's new and lot's of other questions about things she shouldn't know unless she knew me really well. (I am paranoid she may have found my blog and reads it, which makes me fidget with nervousness even now.)
 

My Bubble extends three feet in all directions around me. I don't like it when people come up to me and get too close, especially when they penetrate my sacred Bubble.

Ever see that Seinfeld episode about the Close Talker?

It just freaks me out. I feel like I'm going to go cross eyed if people get too close to me or worse, have a panic attack. God forbid, but I swear I may have a heart attack from the stress of it one of these days!

I also fear people spitting on me! When people are in my bubble, there's a chance for spit to go flying. We've all had it happen. It's embarrassing for both the spitter and the spittee. You say the wrong word, your tongue loses control, the loose spit comes flipping, spiraling like a gross little mucus rocket, right at the person you're speaking to and...

WHAM!

Your spit globule now resides right on your
horrified-pretending-not-to-care-
but-really-thinking-how-fucking-disgusting-
that-just-was-friend.

I can make Bubble exceptions for people I'm comfortable with, like good friends and family. I will risk getting spit on and I will cope with my fingers urge to fidget. Why? Because I love you. So, if you see me and you're closer than three feet away from me and I'm not fidgeting, that's a good sign.

Now, my boss... She and I got along fairly well but I had so many issues with her and I still do. I had a hard time not freaking the fuck out and setting myself on fire when she came up to me, asking me all of those questions, caring  about my life. Before, when I worked there, she barely had the time of day to listen.

And then...
It happened.
She hugged me.

My coffee almost went crashing, spilling hot molten java lava  all over me, the floor, other Starbuck's customers, and my old boss. She's asking Q's. I'm answering, trying not to spit, trying not to scald myself with hot coffee.

I had been totally Bubble raped!

My precious Bubble had just been assaulted and may never be the same. Permanently damaged, punctured wounds, like holes in the ozone layer of our planet Earth, had been inflicted into the safety net of my sacred, precious, invisible, protective Bubble. 

Setting my coffee down on the condiment bar, I took a deep breath and grabbed a few dozen (hundred) sugar packets to caress in my frazzled fingers, to sooth my stressed, Bubble-invaded mind.

My hands were fiddling Dixie.