Nathan voluntarily handed over all of his cash cards into my keeping yesterday. The reason is not important, but let's just say that he spent AutoCad and a new video card but bought neither of those things.
Though I was really ticked at him, I'm also relieved that he is not a drinker: if he were he would probably be a terrible alcoholic. When the boy likes something, he has absolutely no self control at all. I do not understand it.
In my house, chips, ice cream, desert type food, it was all stuff that we bought sometimes. Not necessarily if we were good but, for example, on the rare occasions that we had chili, there were also Fritos. If we had hot chocolate, we had marshmallows; if my mother made chocolate chip cookies and there were extra chips, we had chocolate chips. Generally we had ice cream in the house after birthdays, and sometimes in the summer. I always think of that stuff as "special occasion" food. Nathan seems to think of it as a staple of life.
I always marvel that his parents go grocery shopping at all, there is always food in that house. In my house, we would get down to the point that all we had were condiments, spices, and a few bare essentials. This is why my brother and I hated the trip to the grocery store- it generally took two hours as we went up and down the aisles buying everything to make anything we might have in the next two weeks, or more. That's not really the case anymore, but to a certain extent it's still the way I think. If you have rice, oatmeal, bread and cheese in the house, you aren't out of food.
He sleeps with a fan on, yes, in the dead of winter. Recently, as the temperatures have risen above freezing, he's had the bedroom window open a crack too. And then, because he worries about my being cold, he suggests turning on the space heater! These two things are mutually exclusive and, if you ask me, stupid.
I know I do strange things. I know that somehow I fail to understand that leaving computers on takes energy, and that somehow loading a dishwasher is more work than washing the dishes by hand, and that I have rediculous brand loyalty when probably I could buy the next cheapest butter and get the same thing. So I let most of his strangeness go, but sometimes, just sometimes, I wonder whether his head's screwed on just right.
Though I know for certain that mine isn't.