I didn’t know I love the rain. The dripping of a single drop down my nose gives me the only enjoyment I’ve ever gotten from having an above average sized nose because it allows me to not only get the sensation of the feel of the drop’s slow decline down my nose, but it also allows me to view it’s slow decline which makes walking home in the rain all the more enjoyable, and a million times more light hearted.
I never knew how much I loved socks. The home to my toes, socks protect them from the constant detrimental forces of nature, such as the cold that seeps in from the crack in my window that has been unrepaired for the past two years. Socks provide me what bare feet can not and enable me the ability to slide across my hardwood floor in my underwear to the song Old Time Rock and Roll a la Tom Cruise in Risky Business. I don’t know if it’s in the washer or dryer or perhaps some mystical wormhole in between, but socks manage to make their escape never to return, and that makes my love for socks only grow so much fonder.
I never knew how much I loved the moon. It is the reminder that I am not truly alone, for it keeps its gaze upon the earth and upon me forcing me to remember that I could never hope to be as lonely as it. In the moon I can take solace and be unafraid of going insane, although crazy people are called lunatics, so perhaps I should be wary of that, but alas I am not.
I never knew how much I loved underwear. It keeps my tushy warm, but more than that one summer day at summer camp it provided a shield for my sword, in keeping with the metaphor, and protected me from the glaring, quite possibly piercing, eyes of the many girls and boys who watched as I was pantsed by a boy a few years my senior. Underwear kept my shame from going public that day. Thank you underwear.
I never knew how much I loved gum. There is no better cure for the oral complex I developed most certainly while I was a baby as a result of not being weaned off my mother’s breast milk until I was far too old to admit here than chewing gum. God the sound of gum being chewed is annoying though. I never knew how much I hated other people chewing gum.
I never knew how much I loved water. Aside from my original gross underestimation of its importance in keeping me alive I have learned that it is great in the removal of hot chocolate stains that have, in a feat of magnificence, managed to place themselves on the bridge of my nose. If water is not available spit makes a more than suitable substitute.
I never knew how much I loved spit. In a moment of disgust, of a disreputable, unabashed display of a cosmic creation and visage so vile it makes Hitler in a tutu seem like a dog chasing its tail in a Youtube video there is no more apt response than turning one’s head in revulsion, crossing one’s arms with the might of Hercules, and spitting to the ground with the force of a diving Peregrine Falcon and the abhorrence that Keith Olbermann holds for Bill O’Reilly, and vice versa. That, good sir, is how much I love spit.
I didn’t know how much I love, how much I fucking love, taking almost nothing with any semblance of seriousness. It is of my opinion that it might be the only thing that currently keeps this life anywhere near enjoyable for me.