Stuff I can’t do

  • Roll my tongue.  No shame here.  Either you’re born able to do it, or you’re born unable to do it.  I am, sadly, in the latter group.
  • Tell subtle shades of color apart.  I don’t mean when a bunch of color chips are right next to each other, though they are often remarkably similar even then.  I mean keeping an accurate memory of a color you saw at Home Depot when you look at another one at Lowe’s.  (Probably my red-green deficiency doesn’t help here either.)
  • Draw people’s faces.  When I watch someone draw a recognizable face, it might as well be supernatural.
  • Write fiction.  I don’t have the wiring to put something fictitious of any quality down for hundreds of pages, and enjoying those who can is part of what I enjoy so much about reading.
  • Remember which drain plug takes which socket.  I have three vehicles for which I regularly change the oil, and I can never remember which vehicle’s drain plug takes which socket.  Consequently I scoop all of the sockets 14mm – 18mm inclusive up and take them all under the car with me every time.  At this point it’s a tradition, and writing it down would feel like cheating.
  • Listen to The William Tell Overture without thinking of The Lone Ranger.  I read somewhere once that this was considered a shotgun test for whether a person was cultured.  I’m forever uncultured, I suppose.
  • Tie knotsLamented this one a bit before.  I wish I were half as good as my dad at this.

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