Firsts

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. 
My giant boot did its best angry teenager foot-stomp with each step it took. Trying to do laundry when you live a floor below the washer and you have a fractured foot is always a fun task.

Thunk. Thunk. rrreeeeeeee

The door, perhaps jealous of my leg's new musical instrument, decided to squeak as loudly as it could.
I dropped the laundry into the washer, poured what was left of my detergent in, and selected a cycle at random. To this day, I don't know why there are so many options on a damn washing machine. All I want is one big button that says "Magically make my clothes clean".  Is that so hard?

I started to walk back downstairs. As I did, my eyes scanned the kitchen, looking for clues to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything else I came up here for.

Plant, Pots, Towels, Rug, Pug, Sink, Fridge.... Hmmm... Food. I like food. 

I opened the door to the fridge.

Brown bananas.. should throw those out... later. Milk. Guacamole packet. Olives. Sandwich. Eggs. Other carton of eggs. No, no. None of these. 

I opened the door to the freezer.

Frostbitten ham, hot pockets, roommate's stuff, vodka? no. OH. Blood Orange Sorbet?! How could I have forgotten you? 

Triumphant, I grabbed the sorbet, and a spoon, and started to hobble downstairs. I opened the top as I walked. There, the beautiful reddish orange icy mixture was waiting, beckoning me to take a taste. I took my spoon, and gently scraped it across the surface. The sorbet pushing up into my spoon's curve in a way that can only be described as almost graceful. I started to lift the spoon to my mouth.

No, no. Not like this. Not walking down the stairs. Not for the first time, anyways. It needs to be special. 

It was then that my mind heard it's self. It needs to be special? What the hell? It's ice cream, not a date with your long lost love.

It was then that I had one of my many moments of epiphany. I am obsessed with firsts. I do this all the time, and with things just as trivial as ice cream. I remember getting annoyed at my mother on a number of occasions, because we would buy a new CD of a Broadway show I really wanted to listen to, and I would refuse to hear the first time while in the car with her. I needed to be alone, in my room. To take it all in at once. To soak in it.

This is the reason I don't watch a lot of movies and TV shows, other than ones I have already seen. When I watch shows, it's rare that I have the time to give my full and complete attention to what I'm watching, and it would be the worst thing ever if I were to watch a single episode of, say, Doctor Who without being able to watch it with every speck of my mind focused on it.

I am also fairly certain that I have chosen not to persue romantic connections with people because our first date, or our first kiss... or what have you were not magical. 

It's an odd thing to ponder. I have no earthly idea why I am this way. Who knows. Who cares?

Quite frankly, this epiphany is ruining my first bites of this sorbet.