Listening to myself talk...
...or type, I suppose. Watching myself type? At any rate, I haven't got anything particularly interesting to say, other than to note that the primary culprit that spurs me to hum off-season Christmas carols to myself (the horror, the horror) is Boar's Head brand meats. Every time I'm at the deli counter and realize I have to request Boar's Head Low Sodium Turkey Breast, the Boar's Head Carol begins to run through my head, and it always takes several seconds before I realize what I'm doing.
Other than that observation, I wonder if the reason I'm so bad at keeping up with posting here is that I'm well aware that there is not an eager community of readers hanging on my every word, waiting with bated breath to hear my latest pronouncements on how to cure the ills of the world. And honestly, I'm not doing anything terribly interesting, either. If I were traveling, this would be a good forum to provide updates on my activities, post photographs, and the like, but all I can offer is commentary on my commute to Boston every morning (and I don't even drive there, so I wouldn't even be able to comment on Bostonians' renowned driving skills).
Labels: banal activities, season treason
In Which I Confess a Flaw
You know what bothers me? Well, any number of things; you could come up with various guesses such as people who run stop signs/red lights, or neighbors who steal your newspaper, and be entirely correct. Given that there are plenty of things that irritate me, I'm going to cut the guessing process short (as I flatter myself that anyone was, in fact, guessing), and confess that I have in mind one of my own bad habits.
Every so often, I find myself whistling a pleasant tune, not really thinking about it, only to discover, to my horror, that I am prematurely whistling a Christmas carol.
That's right. Although I dread mid-September and its attendant incorrect music and decoration (see previous posts), I myself am sometimes guilty of indulging in that very vice I so disparage. This is horrifying to me, both in that I could find myself unconsciously humming in the first place, and in that there seems to be some part of me that--it's almost too horrible to type--enjoys Christmas music during months that are not December.
It happened today, which is the reason for this post, but I have noticed it occurring on other occasions. At 26, I feel that I am somewhat young to be worrying about approaching senility, so I am forced to reach the above conclusion. Electric shocks or similar behavioral reinforcement may be in order; this would seem to be the only solution.
Labels: season treason
