I have a phobia.
Not the normal "I hate spiders" phobia.
Although I DO hate spiders.
Don't get me started!
I have a "thing" about metal scraping against metal.
It's like nails on a chalkboard to me.
No ... worse.
Knives and forks rubbing together.
You get the idea.
The sound makes me involuntarily convulse.
I don't know why.
I've had this issue since I can remember.
The Husband used to think I made this up.
Thought I was over-reacting.
He used to have a set of dinnerware that had a floral motif on it.
If you rubbed your fork or knife across the motif ...
I can't even continue that sentence.
It sets my teeth on edge.
The hair on my arms stands straight up.
My limbs flail in strange ways.
I have a slight gag reflex.
I fell asleep watching tv.
He was enjoying a bowl of ice cream.
He began to purposely scrape the bowl with his spoon!
He said I was twitching like an epileptic in my sleep.
And he laughed.
Needless to day, The Husband sharpens the knives.
I hand him the knife and the sharpener.
He waits until I put my fingers in my ears.
The entire time he's dragging the blade through the sharpener (UGH!) ...
I'm shouting ...
and I mean SHOUTING ...
LA! LA! LA! LA! LA! LA! LA! LA! LA!
Just to drown out the sound.
It seems to work.
There's an Indian restaurant that we frequent.
They have a great dessert.
Homemade Mango Ice Cream.
It's to die for.
It comes in a lovely metal bowl.
That you eat with a metal spoon.
The first time it was delivered to our table
The Husband burst out laughing.
"We can ask them to bring you a plastic spoon, dear."
"No. I don't want to look like a freak.
I'll just be careful."
So every spoonful I took was carefully scooped out of the bowl.
So as not to touch the side.
It was agonizing.
I haven't ordered the ice cream since.