Three and a Half Ex-Wives Can't Be Wrong: my 79 worst habits, faults and characteristics

The exact number does not matter. Figure one for every year of my life expectancy, and you'd be close. The apostle Paul called himself "the chief of sinners" and "the least of Christians", and if we're being honest, we all have work to do and flaws to account for. I started this list in my head on the way to work, and I thought it might spark conversation, and perhaps balance the tables a little from all the explaining I do here from my own point of view. Some of these are light-hearted and fun, and others are serious deficiencies of character. I'll let you decide which are which, and encourage you to start a list of your own:

I swear too much, particularly on third down or the first tee.

I give myself too many mulligans and still brag about my score.

Even though I know the science completely contradicts it, I frequently employ the five second rule. If it was something I really wanted to eat, I've been known to invoke the thirty second rule. Even if I dropped it twice.

I lose track of time.

I hate the silent treatment, but if I'm upset, it's invariably how I react.

I don't drink enough water.

Sometimes I only brush my teeth in the morning.

I'm a poor sport. I hate to lose, and if I find myself losing I act like an ill-mannered eight year old. Embarrassed at my own behavior, I then become unsociable and spoil the game.

I chafe and bristle, particularly at authority, rules, and obligations. The theme song of my life could at times be the old John Cougar song "When I Fight Authority Authority Always Wins."

I'm too combative. I always have a nemeses, a rival, a quibble or a point.

I rarely go to the doctor or dentist. Right now I have a cyst on my ribcage I've ignored for eight months, and it's grown to the size of a walnut. I'm thinking of taking it out myself. A little Merthiolate and duct tape and I'll be good as new.

Probably a bad idea, because I'm a big baby if injured or sick.

I put my elbows on the table.

I chew my gum like a cow working a cud, usually about five sticks at a time. Fortunately I don't buy gum very often.

I am a notorious hawker of loogies.

I break promises, or discuss social plans and don't follow through. Right now Stephanie is not talking to me because I missed the hot dog-eating contest. I don't care about the hot dog contest but I miss my smart, funny and beautiful daughter.

I tend to think of myself as smarter than I am. But there's a lot I don't know. And If I were so smart, how come I'm not rich, or have a really cool job, like a jet pilot or football coach?

I don't spend enough time with family or friends. I always feel guilty about it, but I keep doing the same damn things.

More swearing.

I start new ideas or projects in a blaze of enthusiasm and then fizzle out.

I occasionally forget to wear socks, or wear white athletic socks with any outfit or shoes.

I stay up way too late.

I eat too fast.

I do the same things day after day and resist change. I hate change. I like things the way they are.

I open packages with my teeth.

I love to read, but any more I can go months without picking up a book, and it's been ages since I read a moving or life-changing book, and there are hundreds and thousands as close as a train ride to Powell's. My thinking and reading chair is the most underused piece of furniture in the house. My computer chair is easily the most overused.

I can hold a grudge 100,000 times longer than I can hold my breath.

I'm too easily swayed but never convinced. I can read an opinion or editorial, whether liberal, conservative, reactionary or lunatic fringe, and think, hey, that sounds pretty good.

I spend too much and save too little and borrow too readily. Like the rest of the country I'm waking up with a terrible hangover and an empty wallet, and I don't know how much is left in my checking account. Inexcusable.

I forget things. Backpacks, keys, phones, gloves, birthdays, manners, resolutions--I'm an equal opportunity forgetter.

I can remember an embarrassing moment forever, however, and the memory of particular embarrassing ones can creep up on me almost for no reason, the slightest nudge or emotional trigger, sending into a powerful spasm of fresh embarrassment. I become almost oblivious to my surroundings, literally reliving the humiliation, and cry out in shame all over again as if I had Tourette's syndrome. People around me think I've flipped, and I have to invent a lame reason for my outburst. I literally can become haunted by moments and reminders of the past. Am I the only one who does this?

If I open a package of crackers or chips, I'm not stopping till I get to the little pieces.

Sometimes I even eat the little pieces.

If something is bothering me I clam up or stuff it and then explode all at once later on, often over something trivial.

I pick my nose.

I use words like cocksure and asinine merely for their syllabic shock value.

I love to eat those partly popped pieces of pop corn, "the old maids," even though I once cracked a tooth on one, a molar. I think the deductible was $750, the most expensive bag of snacks I have ever purchased.

If I was expecting a romantic interlude and something derails the expectation I pout like hell.

More swearing.

I give up too easily and hold on too long.

Though I frequently test it, I underestimate the limits of God's grace. I isolate myself when I need Him most.

I brood, grouse and nitpick.

I say things without thinking.

I feel things without saying them.

I get defensive.

I think too much.

I think too much about myself.

I talk too much about myself.

I beat myself up.

I create lists like these without doing anything about them.

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I don't know how all of this sounds. I hope it hasn't been shocking or depressing. For me it was actually liberating and encouraging, just taking the inventory. Now we can have a clearance sale and remodel the store.

And now I'm going to brush my teeth and go to bed.