I’ve been organizing in Amazon. I tend to place, literally, 100+ items in Save for Later. I’ve just organized all those items into lists.

I know you are on the edge of your seats, biting your nails to hear about this exciting new development.

Shut up, you like it.

Anyway, I’m going into Aislyn’s room, now. Or maybe I might shower first. Get dressed.

I like being dressed, because I like being clean and looking good, but I also hate it. I’m not saying I enjoy being nude—no, not in the least. But I have a love/ hate relationship with what I call daytime clothes.

I much prefer lounge clothes/ pajamas. I know it doesn’t seem that way, because I always look so stunning at work (haha joke). But I assure you, in real life, it is very much the case.

Probably because my skin is so sensitive (not, mind you, because I might be a little autism spectrummy), I am what they call tactile defensive.

I actually prefer baggy clothes that have less contact with my skin. I cut all tags out of my clothing because of how they feel to me. I have to, have to, have to have low-rise (below my belly button), seamless underwear.

This is so weird, but, even as a little girl, if my mother bought me undies that went all the way up my belly (like briefs), I would actually roll them way down below my waist, like a bikini bottom.

I hate bras. Even the most “comfortable.” Which is inconvenient, because now, I really need them. Especially for working out, but even everyday, mundane tasks can be difficult without the support they provide.

I’m not a huge fan of the texture of jeans; I only wear them, cus, you know, that’s what you wear. Desmond is the same, except he won’t wear them.

I prefer, again, jeans that ride low and are baggy. But that look really doesn’t flatter me, anymore. So I’m relegated to high rise, tighter, “skinny”jeans. Someone please tell me on what planet these skinny jeans actually make me look any skinnier.

Turtlenecks are tricky. They and certain sweater materials irritate my skin. Like, I can’t really do wool. It’s itchy. I do like cowl neck sweaters, which are like, bigger, looser turtlenecks.

I have absolutely nothing against folks on the spectrum, by the way. Or the possibility that I, myself, might be on the spectrum. I just don’t think I am. I was a special education teacher for 20 years. I just don’t see it. And maybe that’s just it: I don’t see it. But I think most people who know me would agree that, no, I don’t have autism.

I have one friend with high-functioning autism who’s convinced that I have HFA, too. That’s why it’s even ever come up. And, my nearly compulsive need to try to think objectively about stuff like this made me really examine myself internally to see if it made sense at all. But every time I explore the subject, I just keep coming up with no.

Also, I think I’ve had the screening and tested negative.

Anyway, it’s going to get up to 43 degrees today, so we will likely go to the park later. Aislyn’s been asking.

Talk later, my friends.

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