Ordinarily I listen to talk radio in the morning because I’m old and don’t understand the music kids are into these days, but this morning I happened along one of those morning-zoo type shows on the FM dial, and the guy was talking about this man he met who didn’t know how to tie his shoes–grown man, neurotypical, not disabled, could not tie his shoes.  I have often worried that my children might grow up to be a version of this man, but that’s another story.  Anyway, the radio guy was having people call in and finish the sentence, “I hate to admit it, but I can’t ______.” 

I couldn’t listen to much of the show before they started playing that music I can’t make heads or tails of, so I thought I’d play this game on my blog instead.  Because after the last couple of posts I’ve done, I feel that you folks are willing to follow me anywhere. 

I’ll begin.  I hate to admit it (well, not really, because I have no pride, but for the sake of appearances I will hate it), but I can’t do the following:

  • Whistle–unless a teapot sound through my teeth counts
  • Drive a stick shift–I’m sure I’ve blogged on this before, so I won’t bore you with the details.  (Do me the favor of not boring me with instructions on how to drive a stick.  I CAN’T.)
  • Do anything with my car other than drive it (and in many cases, park it).  When I owned my car Fred, he had a lot of problems, and I learned how to do several basic survival-type things on that car–you know, like check the oil and the radiator and the battery and the whatnot–but he’s been gone ten years, and probably if you asked me to check the oil on another 260Z, I would not remember how it was accomplished.  That part of the brain has been pruned.  This is the curse of owning a reliable car.  When I go to have the oil changed, I have to think about how to open the hood.  Very embarrassing.  (Heck, after nearly eight years in Oregon, I can hardly remember which side of the car the gas tank is on.) 
    **Note to anyone with a Ph.D. who still can’t tell the difference between lights and darks:  Shut it.  When was the last time you balanced the checkbook?**
  • Burp.  Not only can I not burp on purpose, but I can’t really burp at all.  I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve managed to accidentally burp in my lifetime, and believe me, I understand the appeal, but it’s just not part of my makeup. 

I know there’s more to this list, but I don’t have time right now.  I’m busy.  You’re lucky I blog at all!  (Well, maybe after the last couple days, you don’t feel so lucky.)  Anyway, it’s your turn.  Finish the sentence.

I hate to admit it, but I can’t ________.

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