I got my gift of gab from my dad. He was famous for being able to talk to everyone — friends and strangers alike. Me too! Words just tumble right out of my mouth.
It doesn’t matter where I am — in line at the bank, the DMV, or restaurants. And I’m always talking to the other drivers at intersections who look like they might be thinking about pulling out when they shouldn’t.
“Don’t! Don’t do it”! I shout through the windshield. “Don’t you dare!”
Of course, they don’t hear but maybe they can read my lips because so far, so good.
Knock wood.
Yackety-yack
However, here’s what I think is unusual about my inherited Chatty-Cathy habit. I don’t just talk to other people, I talk to myself, out loud. All the time.
I even do it when I’m writing, like right now. This minute, I’m speaking these words as my fingers tap the keyboard.
And when I get bored with my writing/talking, I’ll probably ask myself, “Where’s that Halloween candy stash?”
And of course, I’ll answer myself, because I’m not going to leave me hanging.
“Where it will never be found. In the fridge, behind the milk.”
And then I’ll suggest that I should go get some, and I’ll say, “Good idea!”
And the rest of the day will go exactly like that, just me, myself, and I, having delightful conversations about everything from the weather to Shelter Island politics and the Housewives of Beverly Hills.
One-woman show
I never thought about how often I talked out loud or about what. Then, one day, after playing my incoming phone messages, I hit the wrong sequence of buttons, putting the phone in record mode for 90 minutes.
The next time I pushed the flashing red light, I was treated to a full hour and a half of me jabbering about people I liked and didn’t like, giving myself a pep-talk, rehearsing a pending argument where I played the dual roles of myself and my opponent — in my version, I won.
And singing the “a-weemo-weh, a-weemo-weh” part from The Lion Sleeps tonight over and over, then warning myself that if I didn’t go to the bathroom “right now” I wasn’t going to make it in time. Again.
Zip your lip
My husband is used to my habit of me talking to myself out loud. When he comes into the house and hears a noisy, animated conversation, he doesn’t ask who else is here. By now he knows it’s just me talking with me.
But it does sometimes catch other people off guard. Like in the dentist’s waiting room when the newsperson on TV was interviewing a politician I didn’t particularly care for. I tried to distract myself by flipping through the pages of an old Field & Stream, but I was thinking, “Just shut up you fool! You are such a jerk!”
Right away, I heard the man across from me laugh.
“Ummm…did I say that out loud?” I asked. He nodded. As it turned out, he thought the guy was a jerk, too.
But I decided right then, it would be a good idea to lock my lips and throw away the key when I was in public places.
Blabbermouth blues
But often I forget that good advice I gave myself. Like that time at the grocery store when I was picking over sad-looking produce. There was a shopper standing nearby who heard me say out loud, “Well, you’re way past your prime.”
It took me a while to convince her that I was talking to an aged avocado, not her. I even made her hold the fruit so she could see how squishy it was.
Fortunately, she agreed that it definitely was past its prime.
And another time a man caught me asking myself, “I wonder, should I do this now or later?”
He said, “There’s nothing wrong with talking to yourself, it’s when you start answering yourself that you know you have a problem.”
We laughed and laughed and I waited until he was out of earshot before I said: “Later.”
My biggest fan
In the interest of peace on earth, I try to limit these out loud conversations with myself to the house and car.
The other day I was laughing about something I’d said, because honestly, sometimes I crack myself up. My husband asked what was so funny and when I told him, he just looked at me, deadpan.
So I said, “I guess you had to be here,” which I thought was hilarious but he still didn’t laugh.
That made me laugh more.
“Maybe talking to yourself the way you do isn’t something you should write about,” he said. “People might think you’re whacky.”
After thoughtful consideration, I have decided I’m okay with that.
Me, too.
Image credit: Pixabay member 愚木混株 Cdd20
