I've always been a fiddler. While I'm sitting around, if there's something within reach, I'm messing with it. It's subconscious, and it's deep-seated. Clicking pens, tying knots, endlessly drumming, you namean irritating personal habit, there's a good chance that I have it. I'm sure it's a thing that toddlers, or at least small children, are supposed to grow out of, but as in everything else in life, I have never been able to develop any self-control in this regard.
Most of the time can ignore this habit, but here in quarantine with nothing around but a bare countertop, it's painfully obvious, as I have been repeatedly finding myself surrounded by piles of massacred wooden cutlery from the seemingly neverending supply that accompanies every pre-packaged meal (as we can't be trusted with metal cutlery, apparently). It's got to stop. The cutlery is all going on a high shelf away from my grasping hands.
I expect my fingernails will suffer as a result.
This post that should have been a tweet was brought to you by Blaugust 2021.
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