Ten Totally Irrelevant Rules I Live By

I have all kinds of little obsessive habits and steadfast rules that I always follow. I'm trying hard to be aware of what these are, and to break them every so often just to help me embrace flexibility, something I'm kind of working on lately. Some of my rules and habits may border on obsessive compulsive behavior, or they may be perfectly normal. I don't know, because I've never had this conversation with anyone. They're just things I do without thinking, like breathing air or scratching my mosquito bites until they bleed.

Here are my top ten most stubborn rules that, when broken, leave me feeling a little vulnerable and itchy.

1. I must always calculate drive time. 

When I pull out of the alley behind our house, I look at the clock so I can time the drive to my destination. It's six minutes to my sister's house, nine to Ruby's daycare, 16 to my parents' house, six to Gerardo's school, and three to Mila's job. If the clock changes between the time I reach the end of the alley, I use the new time.

2. I require perpetual refreshment...

I must always have something to drink at hand. This winter, it's hot mint green tea with exactly a tablespoon of honey. Last summer, it was iced sun tea. Whatever it is, it has to be in my tall, skinny stainless steel travel cup with the long, contoured handle.

3. ...in the right receptacle.

All cups and glasses I drink from must feel good in my hands. I go out of my way to avoid Scooters only because their coffee cups are so damn fat. I can't stand fat cups, even those that have handles. I always order a Venti at Starbucks because those cups are skinnier than the Grande cups. My ceramic coffee cups have to be tall and skinny too, with slightly sloping (but not curved) sides and a long, sloped handle through which all four of my fingers will comfortably fit. I cannot abide wine glasses, which don't feel at all good in my hands. I drink my wine out of highball or juice glasses or small jelly jars.

4. There is a right order of events in the shower, and there is a wrong order of events in the shower.

The right order of events is as follows: Apply shampoo, rinse shampoo, apply conditioner, scrub the front of the body from the shoulders to the toes, scrub the back of the body from the heels to the nape of the neck, shave legs, rinse conditioner while shaving armpits, wash face, pumice feet, rinse hair one last time.

5. The proper writing utensil is essential.

I will spend a half hour searching for the right pen rather than use any old cheap ballpoint that's lying around. My pens must be fine-point, and the ink must be black and flow smoothly across the page, as if it's skating on ice. The pen itself must feel good between my fingers: it should be perfectly round, not too fat, and a little heavy.

6. Lifestyle changes start on Mondays.

If it's Tuesday and I get all inspired to start doing yoga every day, I can't start until Monday. If I decide to go on a diet or cut down on my coffee consumption or start a new writing schedule, I can't start until Monday. If I don't start on Monday, I have to wait for the following Monday to start.

7. All time is measured in quarters of an hour.

The only time that exists for me comes in fifteen minute increments. Don't tell me to be somewhere at 6:20. Tell me to be there at 6:15 or 6:30. You will never see me set my alarm for 7:25 or 7:40. It will be 7:15 or 7:45. Teaching drove me crazy, because the reading block would start at 9:23 and end at 10:17, lunch from 12:01 to 12:24 and so on. I printed the schedule and stuck it in the back of my ID badge and referred to it every single day, because not even after nine months could I keep the times straight.

8. Recipes are meant to be followed.

If a recipe calls for 1/4 teaspoon of salt, I have to pour the salt in the appropriate measuring spoon and scrape a knife over it to ensure it's exactly 1/4 teaspoon. If a recipe calls for a pinch of salt, it infuriates me. What the hell is a pinch of salt? A pinch of salt for someone who has big sausage man hands is going to be considerably different than a pinch of salt for someone with long, dainty piano playin' fingers. So against what standard am I supposed to calculate what a pinch of salt is? And don't even get me started on sticks of butter with measuring lines that don't line up exactly with the ends of the stick.

9. Gas is always rounded up to the nearest dollar.

I cannot pump $10.02 in gas. If I miss the $10.00 mark, I have to bump it up to $11.00. If I miss the $11.00 mark, I have to go up to $12. Now that I think of it, I always round up my bill payments to the nearest dollar as well.

10. Packing cigarettes is an exact science.

Before I quit smoking (which took place on a Monday, of course,) packing my cigarettes was an exact science: Hit the pack ten times on the palm of my hand, turn it 180 degrees and pack nine times. Turn it 180 degrees and pack eight times. Turn it 180 degrees and pack seven times. And so on, all the way down to one last whack on the palm for good measure before opening it.

So, tell me, because I'm dying to know: Is all that normal? Do you have little hard and fast rules that give you the collywobbles when you break them?