Dialogue: I'm a bit weird and proud of it

By ROANNE PARKER

You might call me a people person. I love the whole nine yards of human contact, but it is fair to say that we can't all get along all of the time.

Goodness, even my darling mad Scotsman has me cross-eyed in frustration quite frequently - usually, I might add, when he's right and I'm wrong and we both know it. The things I say to him at times like those might make a nun blush, but that's okay because I usually know when to stop.

The gamut of the harsh things we say to those we love are bound to an unwritten code of conduct, and the dynamics of each relationship make for different rules. If you are otherwise sane, you don't tell the cheery lady in the greengrocers to naff off when she shows no interest in your day from hell, but it's quite likely your squeeze would be told just that if he or she won't listen when you get home with your bag of greens five minutes later.

It's a given that we often treat our nearest and dearest with less regard than total strangers. Why do we? Because we can.

I have often said that one of the great things about having family is that they let you back in the door even if you slammed it last time you went out. You can disagree - and let's face it, if you are like me you can be very blunt at times - and it is very comforting to know that, if the world caved in, there would always be a mattress on the floor with your name on it.

It is a privilege to have relationships like that in your life. Surely the best relationships let us keep the rough edges that make us different from everyone else. The edges are what attract us to each other in the first place. The velcro of individuality.

Many of those closest to me might feel my maturation is an agonisingly slow process, but it must be happening, because I find that I like people and the differing layers of interaction I have with others more and more. I love the ways that we differ and the ways we are the same. But still I have a healthy streak of intolerance that refuses to grow up and move on.

It's good for all of us that there are people who are early and people who are late, details people and big-picture people, thinkers and doers. God loves everyone, but for the rest of us mortals there are some things that are just a turn-off despite our best intentions.

I have to admit I occasionally have a problem liking people in hot pools. The last time I went for a soak I spent the whole time watching this big, fat, hairy man who was sitting near me for warning signs that globs of his person were about to start melting off and drifting in my direction. The whole experience was a little repulsive.

Oh, and stupid people drive me barmy. Last week I had a 20-minute phone conversation with a minion of a very innovative company who was so unhelpful and misinformed that by the finish I was rolling around the floor wrapping the phone cord around my neck just to bring the whole horrible experience to an end.

It's great to talk to friends, and I try to enhance conversation. The last one I tried was to ask the assembled persons in my kitchen how they felt about the fluff in their dryer filter. You see, I really enjoy finding that I've missed a load or two and there's a great, Pink Batts-sized layer of fluff to peel off. New towels are always a bountiful fluff-maker, and I got a great harvest from the bath mats the other day.

From that dialogue it appears there are those who never check it, those who find it a chore, and those like me who get a little thrill out of the whole procedure.

Some of you may by now be wondering if I ought to be locked up somewhere quiet and padded, but I feel quite safe knowing that you have a few idiosyncrasies of your own. They are the things that your family love you - or at least forgive you - for.

Don't let anyone file down your burrs. Slam a few doors, reopen them when they are slammed on you and if conversation lags, admit to a little weirdness.