High Maintenance--Not Bitchy!!!

Last month, MizzJ of the wonderful Being High Maintenance, not Bitchy blog, sponsored several giveaways. For the first one, she asked readers to leave a comment giving one way in which they are high maintenance. I didn't enter, but it got me thinking.

Am I high maintenance? Well, I do like to be comfortable. Enduring discomfort is not a problem—you get to be good at it when you’re the youngest of 6 kids! But why endure it if you don’t have to? Right?

I adopted that philosophy at a young age. At 5 or 6, I inherited a roll-away bed from an older brother. I liked sleeping on my little cot. But with 6 kids and 7 beds in the house, we were one sheet short of full coverage. While a single sheet folded in half was big enough to cover the mattress on my cot, I didn’t have a top sheet—I didn’t know anyone did. But while getting into bed one night, I accidentally grabbed the top half of the folded sheet along with my blanket and I climbed in between the fold. Lying there nestled between two layers of the sheet felt heavenly! It was cool, soft and insulated me from the itchy blanket. It was amazing!!! In that moment, the Little Prince was born.

Up until then, I was a rough and tumble little boy who didn’t notice anything. But comfort started becoming important. When my shoes got too tight, I lost them. (Now you know where shoes on the side of the road come from!) If I got a hole in my sock, it had to be fixed—I even sewed a few holes closed myself. (What is “darning”?) When my dad wanted to turn off the A/C before he went to bed, I promised I'd push the “off” button when I turned in—then I’d doze on the couch for hours so I could enjoy the cool air. After chores, I occasionally pushed the forbidden “on” button on the A/C. Why wait for my dad to get home to cool off the house a little? I knew how to push a button—I just had to remember to turn it off before he got home!!!

Sometimes I might go too far in pursuit of comfort. Thankfully, labels on the Hanes t-shirts I wear under my dress shirts are printed on the shirt itself now. But the old tags, made from synthetic material, aggravated my neck. So I cut them out. That left a sharp little stub that was even more annoying than the tag itself. My only option was to turn the shirts inside out—no one could see them anyway. Unfortunately, one day I went to the barber shop with my shirt inside out. The barber giggled because she thought I was being stylish (for once). Also, the seams on some socks are too thick. They can irritate my toes…so those go inside out too.

Okay, it’s clear I’ve taken comfort to crazy-ville with regard to some things. But like the princess in the Princess and the Pea, this prince does not like lumps, humps or bumps. But don’t get the wrong idea. I can tolerate sitting on a backseat hump for hours, in the center seat on a plane, in a theater with my kids elbowing me, or on a hot subway car stalled in a tunnel, all without complaint. I just think the “comfort” things I can control, I should control—even the crazy little ones.

If I was a girl, my only heels would be the two end slices on a loaf of bread.

So, do you know anyone who does weird little things to be comfortable? Believe it or not, I have a sister-in-law who wears her socks inside out for that reason. So I may be crazy, but I’m not alone. =)