Confessions of a Chronic Bus Rider

The idea of putting mayonnaise in guacamole makes me sick.  I'm in shock that there are people who actually do this.

I drink at least twelve cups of water a day.  Usually closer to sixteen.  I am aware of coffee's diuretic properties which inspires some of the excessive water consumption, but honestly, I am always thirsty. 

In order to consume so much water, I am never without my Nalgene.  I am also never without a book of some kind, in the event that I might have to wait for something for more than two minutes and need something to occupy my brain.

At a pool party when I was eleven, a girl made an off-hand comment to me that my toes were hairy.  I have since become incredibly self-conscious about it - despite the fact that I am so blonde that my body hair is practically translucent - that I take care to shave the tops of my toes every time I shave my legs.

On several occasions I have had dreams about things that have then happened in real-life.  They're mundane things, like conversations or sightings, but I will have seen or heard them the night before in my dreams and then have ridiculous deja vu because of it.

I never remember to bring an umbrella.  Even if it is visibly pouring rain as I am preparing to leave the house.

If I'm not within driving distance of the ocean, I feel claustrophobic.  The summer I lived in Kentucky, I routinely had nightmares that I was going to be swallowed by the mountains because I was so landlocked.

There are few foods that I don't feel are improved by a generous dose of Sriracha hot sauce.

I develop guilt complexes about accruing library late fees.

I have all of my children's names picked out - three boys' and three girls', with a couple of sidelined possibilities in the event that I have more than three of either one.  Better safe than sorry.

I never swear around the kids I take care of, but I doubt that I will heavily censor myself around my own children.

My all-time favorite nanny memory is of the way that Monkey used to reach his hand up to hold my face turned towards his while I fed him his bottle.  If I looked away for even a second, his pudgy left paw would be on my cheek in a moment, pulling my chin around so his eyes could find mine again.