My brain is full of a lot of things tonight. I’m thinking about the NaNoWriMo, and what I’ll write (I have no idea). And about someone who drives me INSANE and not in a good way, but I’m dealing with that. Remind me to tell you about my revelation about complaining that I had recently — it IS true that the things that bug you most about a person are really your own problems. I’d always heard it, but in this case I knew it couldn’t be true. Yeah, um, it is.
But more on that at another time, when I am more awake. What I am wondering at this moment is why the heck is it such an intimate thing to whistle with another person? Hmmm? Think about it. Well, I guess you won’t know, unless you’re a whistler. But if you are, you’ll agree, I’m sure.
I’m one of those whistlers who can’t stop doing it. If there’s a song on in the background, I’ll be whistling, and usually I don’t even realize it. I don’t realize it until I notice that someone else is also unconsciously whistling. Then there’s that awkward moment when you both realize what’s happening and you either both stop, or one bows out, and the other maintains the tune politely for a few notes, as if in thanks for the concession, and then she’ll stop whistling, too. And then ten minutes later, you both do it all over again.
The exception to this is when you’re in a store, around people you don’t know from Adam, and two actively-whistling whistlers collide in an aisle. They just might have a few bars of competition, and the louder one usually wins. But I do harmony better than most, I must say. Oh, the weirdness of harmonizing with a stranger. It’s almost unbearable, the strange intimacy. Rather unpleasant, actually. But interesting, no?
Forty more minutes and I’m on my way home for a good day-sleep. Then a walk with the dogs and the wife, and then another shift, and then the weekend. Couldn’t come at a better time.
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