I am a chronic “Toucher of Stuff”. It is pure curiosity.
I tend to be a little on the impulsive side as well, which can create some hazardous situations. My hands seem to shoot and grab things before my brain has really had time to process the possibility of injury.
I’ve been electrocuted about 16 times in my life.
WARNING TANGENT ALERT!
Ever see that amusing graphic of the kid with a fork (like the one up there ^), poised to jam it into an electrical outlet… yeah well… it was a butter knife, but the effect was the same.
I watched my Dad remove a broken bulb from a light socket with a potato once…did the same thing to my night light with a carrot because I couldn’t find a potato.
Sneezed over the toaster, while peering into it waiting for my toast, and my spittle, sizzled and smoked when it hit the elements. Munching my toast and spitting into the toaster, I soon got bored with the small puffs of steam, so I poured a cup of water into it.
Using my Dad’s electric razor to give my Barbie a proper haircut in the bathroom…heard my Mother come home and panicked. Ran the damn thing under the water to rinse the Barbie hair out of it.
As I became an adult, I was a bit more cautious. Most of the electrocutions were not entirely my fault.
Washing walls one day I had a nice arc come from a switch plate when I ran the rag close to it. My cat chewed through the cord of the iron while I was ironing and melted the iron to my hand, I had a bit of blood ooze out of my nose…doc said I was all good though aside from the melted plastic still embedded in my palm… Removing a broken bulb from a socket and my friend insisted the power was off… only thing that saved me was I fell off the step ladder and broke the current. Pulling out my oven to do a full clean…it was wired in, and the wires had frayed over the years…as I pulled it out the wires touched – my body hit the oven as I jolted forward stiff as a board and it shifted the oven enough to separate the wires again. Once giving the dryer a quick wipe down while I had my hand on the washer… I fell and rolled backward breaking the current. Zapped by my curling iron…. there are a couple more…
I love texture too. Rock and stone. Have to touch it. Water features in gardens…have to have my hands in it. Wooden sculptures, crystal doodads, paintings and carvings, anything shiny or smooth. Stained glass. Anything old. Fabric of any kind. Slimey things too…
At the moment I spy something that peeks my curiosity, nothing else exists. It’s a freedom I get from nothing else. I am unconcerned with “how I look”, “what others think”, or if “I look stupid”.
All you’ll hear is, “Oooooh wazzat?” and I’m gone.
I hope it never changes. I hope I never loose that wonder and amazement. The world is so damn tangible and tactile…
Some people don’t understand it. I don’t touch people…just things. I have been known to touch a necklace someone is wearing, or the fabric of their shirt or dress…with permission of course. People have remarked on it rather negatively at times as well.
“Why do you have to touch everything?”, “Can’t just leave it alone can you?”, “You’ll hurt yourself.”, “You’ll break it…” “You’ll get dirty.” “It’s not really meant to be touched.”
It was hell as a kid. My Mother most certainly did not understand it and labeled me “destructive”, “embarrassing” and “retarded” (Can you imagine?). My Father however, shared the same quality and joy. My Husband also shares the same need to touch things.
As a kid, naturally I broke some things. Never with malice or ill-intent. As an adult I am conscious of how delicate some things are and I have refined my touching of things to suit.
I won’t shake your hand but if you have a cool brooch on your lapel you can pretty much guarantee I’m going to want to poke it…
I guess it’s a childlike quality. Learning by touching and inspecting. Investigating textures and designs in the world we live in. I don’t think it’s weird and I find it sad that some people do. I find it sad that most adults have lost that wonder…opting instead to just “guess” or “know” how something might feel. Or worse…to not even consider it at all!
I can’t walk down the street without wanting to touch something…the tree with the big burl in it, the shiny thing in the gutter, the funky mailbox the neighbor has…
If you ever see some crazy red head on your lawn inspecting your lawn ornaments and whirly-gigs…please don’t call the cops.