Not Just A River In Egypt

Killer posts optimistically in the hopes that the NEXT will be different

The mind is an amazing thing. I have had many years of life, building experience with which to better know myself and my limitations. Yet, I still have a few inexplicable habits that rear their ugly head from time to time.

I am constantly buying apples, oranges, even the occasional bunch of grapes, but I never eat them. Every couple of weeks I am being forced to pull a plastic bag out of the bottom of my fridge which contains a large amount of one or more of these rapidly deteriorating fruits. A few times I could not even determine which fruit it originally was. Still, every time I am passing through the produce section I convince myself, "This will be the week I start eating more fresh fruit!" Nothing can halt this practice, not even the frequent resemblance of my crisper bin to a hippie's compost pile.

I don't own a home, and never have, but that does not stop me from occasionally going to Home Depot and walking through the aisles looking at home improvement items. I will even spend a bizarre amount of time looking at riding lawn mowers, comparing horse power and testing the seat for maximum comfort. Maybe it is a guy thing. Perhaps there is a lawn mower loving, power tool coveting gene embedded in my DNA.

I have never been suave enough to pick up a girl from a bar and bring her back to my place. I know many of you might not believe that, but it is, unfortunately, true. Oddly enough, I have not even come close. But, every time I am about to leave my apartment to go to a bar or club. I always hesitate and contemplate straightening up a little. Just in case I pick up some desperate woman and bring her back later that night. Years of negative outcomes in this area have not managed to erase the optimism lurking in my psyche.

What makes it worse is that I know that each of these problems exist, and repeatedly tell myself this when every particular occasion arises, but it does not help. I might have obsessive compulsive disorder, or maybe a mild case of Tourette's syndrome, but without the funny profane language that would make it worth while.
Denial is a bitch.