Solitaire and My Personal form of Voyeurism

When I play solitaire, for as long as I’ve played solitaire (since early childhood), I’ve had to arrange the stacks like this, from left to right:

Hearts, Diamonds, Puppy-Feet, Spades. (Puppy feet sounds way cooler than Clubs).

If someone gets out of order (I also personify everything, by the way) I will use the undo button, or even pull cards down, back into play, so I can rearrange, even though this deducts from my score (Especially when you have to bring cards back down… ouch). Heaven forbid it being too late to fix the problem when I notice. That means I have to end the game and start over.

A few more quirks:

I have to chomp my teeth twice, big exaggerated chomps, after brushing my teeth.

I am highly secretive about trimming my nails. My preferred time to execute this task is when I’m home alone, however, under emergency circumstances, I can clip in the master bathroom with the door closed and ventilation fan on (But only if our bedroom door is also closed and hubby is downstairs).

My personal form of voyeurism is watching hubby trim his nails. :)

Certain sounds make my ears feel like they are bleeding, worse than nails on a chalkboard: “The Reason” by Hoopastank, Sun Chips new packaging and our bedroom fan on the high setting. I also can't stand the sound of people chewing their food.

If I’m eating Nachos, I’m also having M&Ms to go with them (Or CRAVING them, if there are none around). I think this is the best taste combo pretty much ever. No. I’m not pregnant. And

When brushing my teeth with a regular toothbrush I brush each area in 32 times, in counts of 8. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, repeat 4 times, move to next area. (Hubby and I recently switched to electric, so I don’t have to do this anymore),

No matter what the temperature, I can’t sleep unless I’m under a blanket (something more substantial than a sheet), with one leg outside the covers.

Skittles and Jolly Ranchers always give me the hiccups.

I don’t like pancakes with syrup, I prefer them dipped in over-easy egg. This grosses hubby out.

Fish scare the $hit out of me. We actually have one now, Lt. Shiny Sides, but only after months and months of “exposure therapy” with hubby. (And there are not one, but two lids on his tank). Most of my nightmares are of walking down a narrow aisle lined to the ceiling with tanks of fish, who start jumping out and onto the floor in front of me… *Shivers just thinking about it*