1.) Spontaneously smiling to themselves on the sidewalk.
2.) Laughing real hard and not being able to stop.
3.) Revealing silly things about themselves that they didn't mean to.
4.) The guy at Panera formally requesting, on the microphone, that "Customer #2095 to approach the counter", just to see if I wanted a pickle with my sandwich. ("I didn't know if you wanted a pickle or not. I don't know you that well.")
5.) Attempting to articulate acronyms (e.g., the other day, someone decided to pronounce the building where I work -- the LRDC -- as the LurDuck.)
6.) Making conversation to strangers in elevators.
7.) I love how you can make a group of teenagers instantly filled with the depth of their emotion just by playing a dramatic pop song (for example, in my high school years, this may have been Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On")
8.) Guys keeping precious keepsakes -- for example, one of my co-workers was moving out of her house, and found that her husband had been keeping a homemade button with a photograph of an 11-year-old cheerleader -- apparently, his first girlfriend.
9.) People using overly-melodramatic language or making metaphors that seem far too poetic for the present context.
10.) Customers at the grocery store standing for five minutes in front of the vast array of Cambpell's Soups, as if they have to imagine the gustatory sensation of each one before they can make a decision.
I have this bizarre fascination with Iran. (Yeah, I know.) It's just that one day I found myself with nothing to do (you can tell this was a while ago) and with an issue of Granta (the literary journal) available, and there was a substantial non-fiction piece on Iran, and I completely got into it. Now I'm miserable at following current events but usually the first piece I'll read, if any, in the International section is whatever is on Iran -- these days, usually something to do with their disputes with whatever-the-nuclear-commission's-acronym is, I always forget. Anyways in an indulgent moment this weekend, celebrating my liberation from some recent work obligations, I bought some non-psychology reading material, namely, the New York Review of Books, which I love in spite of any pretentiousness you might attach to it. I found none other than some recent coverage on Iran by Timothy Garton Ash. See it here: Soldiers of the Hidden Imam
Ah, 3M. I used to know a guy who was a chemist at 3M. He was the father of my roommate. Once he told me all about the glue for Post-Its and I remember my bizarre but genuine admiration for the innovation and hard work involved in developing nothing more profound than the adhesive for a small, sticky notepad. Really, tell me if I am wrong, is there not a distinctive grip to the sticky back of a genuine 3M post-it? When your supply closet at work doles out something inferior (as does mine), do you not find post-it notes falling off your desk, your filing cabinets, and so on? There's a lot of brains behind that stuff. Almost makes a person want to become a cheerleader for privatization--if the free market can do this, it will surely find the solutions to all our worst social problems! But, before I transform into a conservative overnight, here's one area where 3M--and hence all the forces of capitalism--went wrong. I cannot find any good lint roller, anywhere.
Now, to be sure, of all the lint rollers of modest quality, 3M's is probably the best and it's what I have in my linen closet right now. But, it just doesn't do the trick with fleece shirts. Especially, dragged-out-of-a-suitcase-after-being-stored-all-summer fleece. Fleece that, every time it goes through the washing machine, picks up another fresh load of lint accumulated across every single person in my apartment who hasn't figured out how to clean out a lint tray. I clean it out myself, of course (which is gross) but I have a feeling that once it's gone too long and collected too much junk, some of that has got to get into the machine and subsequently onto all my clothes.
So, I have all these fleece shirts lined with lint, and I have tried all manner of lint roller, including that one proudly made by our friends in Maplewood, to no avail. Ideas?