Ok, folks, before the feelings of outrage set in, please understand that I do realize that many people name their cars. Some name their plants, and others even name their fish (yes, fish are essentially inanimate objects). However, very rarely do grown-up's name the vast amount of items in their possession quite like I do.
Looking back, I think this all began with the many dolls with whom I shared my childhood. Always a creative child, these poor "children" of mine were blessed with names such as Oceana, Craigmeyer, Amy Loo Hoo Net, and Kentucky Lake. This habit was quickly extrapolated into bikes (Annalisa Banana), beds (Squish-squish), and and hard-boiled eggs (Eggbert, of course). While this trend was endearing when I was say, seven, I have learned that at twenty, it is just plain strange.
It also causes quite a bit of confusion regarding my social life. Many people don't realize that if I'm driving LJ and Darrell to go play with Lynyrd, I am actually transporting my netbook by way of GPS to go practice my flute. Much more depressing than having three real-life friends. LJ, for those who don't know me is actually short for Lappy-Junior, Lappy being my original laptop, Darrell is spelled like DARR-ell but is pronounced Darr-ELL, and Lynyrd is the counter-part of my piccolo, Skynyrd.
So, as I prepare to enter the real-life, grown-up world I have been threatened with, I realize that my dear and loyal friends may have to re-assume their formal, object-y names. But, I don't think there's any need to rush the process.
Lessons learned?
Craigmeyer still isn't a real name.
My real-live children will probably need therapy.
Pretending to have friends is still kind of fun.
Time to go prepare breakfast- now where did I put Eggbert?
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