The Zooms' dry cleaner is located in the same shopping center as my morning coffee.
Sometimes I have to park the car in such a way that I walk past the dry cleaner. And every time I do that, I think to myself:
"I wonder if they ever look outside, see me or other people walking by, and think 'hey, I cleaned and pressed that sweater/dress/jacket just last week!'"?
And this thought will annoy me. I mean really, this couldn't be more ludicrous. Who would be self absorbed enough to think that their mere passage in front of an open store would cause the people inside to even look up? And even if they did, do I really believe they could identify a piece of clothing on a person...just because they applied that plastic see through bag over perfectly folded articles that are now on me?
No. No I don't.
And I then spend the next 10 minutes trying to get the entire thought trail out of my head.
And even if I really thought someone could recognize my sweater after doing...whatever it is that dry cleaners do with clothes besides fold them...I doubt they'd recognize mine.
Just ask Mr. Zoom. Almost 98% of the time I will button a shirt/sweater up the front in such a way that the buttons aren't lined up with the holes. It's completely crooked, and I don't ever realize it until I am facing Mr. Zoom and he starts laughing. I'd be willing to bet I can disguise any piece of clothing just by attempting to wear it.**
Of course I get the amazing, never failing, compulsive thought process that is completely useless to me. OF COURSE I DO! Just because I walk past the dry cleaner on my way to my morning coffee. And you know what? If I walk past there at night and it's closed? It doesn't happen. Not even a "well, if they were open...." type thing.
Yet...I can't remember where I put my car keys [instructions I just printed/ earrings / jacket / shoe(s)/ glasses - make infinity sign here] 5 minutes ago. Hint? It's the same place I've been putting them for about 2 years now. Oh nooo. Can't pick up a compulsion for that, apparently. Or button my clothes in such a way that I don't look like I've escaped from some kind of supervised care.
**And here's the fun part for Mr. Zoom. When he gets the giggles over my crooked buttoning, I spend a good 2 minutes (clueless) grilling him "WHAT?! What's so funny? What happened? What'd I miss?". And this only makes him laugh harder. By the time he's able to get it out, I'm all indignant. As if it's HIS fault I've been walking around with crooked buttoning.
I am a joy. An absolute JOY to be with.