I’ve written about food on this blog before. I like to eat (don’t trust anyone who doesn’t like to eat) so it only makes sense that in a couple hundred posts, a few of them would relate to food.I’ve written about cereal, which is one of the most processed items in a grocery store, and goes against a general eating rule of mine: eat whole, unadulterated food, not food products. If food comes in a package, chances are it’s garbage. There are some healthy exceptions to this rule, which I don’t have to defend. But my obsession with cereal—sugary cereals, “healthy” cereals, all cereals—is basically an indefensible violation of my general eating rule, so I won’t even try to defend it.I’ve written about peanut butter and jelly. In particular the right way to make a PB&J sandwich. That post led to a number of interesting conversations. I enjoyed debating the “right” way with some very intelligent people, and also powered through discussions with a couple of idiots.And tonight’s challenge for Blogapalooz-hour, in which we’re given a topic and then one hour to produce a post, challenged us to write about a food or eating habit of ours that others might find quirky or weird. Peanut butter and jelly was the first thing that came to mind.I eat PB&J at all times of the day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, late night snack. Every time I do a Blogapalooz-hour I read the topic, go to the kitchen and make a PB&J, and eat my sandwich while thinking of a direction to go with my writing.I’ve had four PB&J sandwiches today.Just over a year ago I spent a couple days by myself in a fairly isolated place and I ate nothing but PB&J for more than 48 hours. I lost count around fourteen sandwiches.So I could have written about PB&J.I could also have written about Eat Whatever You Want Day, which has become a Baker Family tradition, and will take place in a couple of weeks. Or about my aversion to seafood. I’ll just never understand how anyone thinks that stuff smells good. Or about my years-long obsession with A1 steak sauce. Or my current quest for the perfect egg preparation technique.I can say a lot about food. Chances are this isn’t going to be my last culinary-inspired blog post.But none of those topics are particularly quirky or weird, and I like to meet the challenge, so I’ve tossed those ideas aside.Instead, I’ll write about rings. Specifically, the ring of wetness left on a table by a drinking glass or bottle.If I’m sitting in a restaurant, or really at any place for a long period of time, and I’m drinking something that leaves a ring of wetness on the table, then the entire time I’m sitting there, I will make sure to put the glass right back on top of the ring. I’ve done this for as long as I can remember.I went to a restaurant yesterday with my family, and the waitress put a napkin in front of each person at the table, and then placed the glass on the table right next to the napkin. Not on top of it, right next to it. This struck me as odd. I assumed the napkin was there to soak up the wetness of the glass, so I didn’t understand why she placed it next to it. I still don’t. I wanted to ask her why she did it, but thought I might sound crazy.But actually, the placement of the glass is insignificant to me. Once she placed it on the table, I wasn’t going to move it to the napkin. The ring was created on the table, so throughout the meal—and the many refills of Diet Coke that followed—I picked up the drink and then put it right back down on the ring. Not by chance. By design.I do this all the time, at every restaurant, at every table, whenever a ring appears. I have no idea why.I suspect it has something to do with the way my brain works. I’m not the neatest person in the world, but I have to fold towels and blankets neatly, corner to corner. When I put dishes away I have to make sure small bowls and cups fit inside larger ones, and on more than one occasion I’ve arranged our colorful dinner plates so they’re in ROYGBIV order in the cabinet. I’ve also written about my obsession with counting and alphabetizing letters in words.I suspect this is all some sort of low-grade obsessive-compulsive disorder. It has no negative effect on my life so I haven’t thought about it too much, but if I put my glass down on the table and didn’t take the extra second to make sure it was right on top of the ring, it would drive me crazy. And I don’t understand why anyone would just keep putting the glass down in different places, creating numerous rings. Why?But maybe the bigger question should be, why the hell do I care?Let me know if you have the answer. Otherwise, I’m just going to make a PB&J and ponder it.Let me send you more Dry it in the Water posts!
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