Expert Blindspots–my older sister was telling me about them today. At 6 months pregnant and after quitting her job as an high school English teacher to stay home with her growing embryo, she has nevertheless found herself in another full-time contract (teaching online, but still 40 hours a week. She just doesn’t seem to want to slow down). But I digress. Adell was explaining to me the theory of Expert Blindspots, which is the phenomenon of becoming so educated and immersed in any one subject that a person becomes completely incapable of teaching others about said subject. In effect, it’s when someone cannot remember a time before they were so smart; a person is so familiar with the inner workings of, say, trigonometry, that she cannot lower her level of thinking enough to teach it. [I took a class like that once.]
It got me thinking, though…I wonder if Poor Kyle has known me for so long and at so close a level (best friend status, essentially) that he has acquired an Expert Blindspot in the vast topic of Me.
I’m mostly being serious about this.
There are so many things that I am sure he knows about me, but has ignored (or tolerated) for 2 years in the name of “let’s-get-married-already!” [Romantic, I know.] The way I suck air through the crevices of my teeth to make sure they’re free of obstructions, for example…
I can’t stand the thought that he might not know exactly what he’s in for; I make it a habit never to corner people or obligate them, without at least giving fair warning. And with only 19 days to go, I think now is a good time to get all the potential-bliss-hindrances out in the open.
Reasons Poor Kyle Might Consider Reconsidering…
1. It is a well-known fact that I only shower when necessary. I find showering a terrible inconvenience. I rarely smell (opting instead to layer on the deodorizers) but Adell nags me at least once a week to “wash your hair! Mercy!”
2. I have tendencies towards Green. Not the kind of Green that deems I buy only organic vegetables. It’s moreso geared towards our planet’s poor little ozone, manifested by way of carpooling and driving eco-conscious vehicles. I wonder if this might bother him when it comes time to buy either an SUV or a minivan (though I think a swell compromise would be a Hybrid SUV).
3. I like Target altogether more than I should. And I am very easily swayed to rationalise spending money there. Especially on orange-stickered clearance items.
4. My least favourite chore is mopping. Our future house is floored completely in wood laminate and tile. Does he realise the implications of this ill-fated favour?
5. If given the adequate resources and time, I could–and would–eat a tomato sandwich and a whole dill pickle every day of my life.
6. My face is finicky. Her Majesty the Skin will explode (literally) if I do not stick to a strict hygienic regimen. I learned this my first year at ASU, when I became liberalised (all but my pores, that is). Between washing, exfoliating, cleansing, toning, flossing, brushing, gurgling, tweezing, moisturizing, and the occasional pep-talk (“Come on, Mt. Vesuvius…be gone! Lay dormant!”), it can take me well over 20 minutes to get ready for bed. He knows it, but does he really know?
7. I have worse-than-poor vision, and each year at the optometrist’s office, I’m diagnosed with an increasingly critical prescription. Contacts cost several hundred dollars for my prematurely aging eyes, and what’s more dismal is that I am not even a candidate for Lasik. Translation: How much is our co-pay? We might as well add it to our list of yearly expenditures, along with groceries, fuel, and flood insurance.
Seven seems like a good (and slightly ominous) number at which to stop. Poor Kyle, you are to be pitied, I think. Weigh your options; evaluate them well, and above all, consider yourself warned.