YOU HAVE A DESIGNATED DOOR!

The apartment mate is Aspy, and outspoken. So I should not be surprised that within seconds of her joining me in the teevee room (where both of our computers reside) she was swearing about Donald Trump. Which is quite understandable, but in any way thinking about the big Bloat Hard this early in the day is only good for simple-minded people in Iowa and Ohio, where innocent middle aged Christian women are finally experiencing a form of sexual awakening because they think of Trump.
Along with Tennessee, Kentucky, West Virginia, Georgia, and Mississippi.
Plus Florida and Texas.

Fortunately she's now considering someone's dead dog.

A dead dog is at all times better than Trump.


The Asperger enters into the picture because of how thoughts progress. Someone who is on the spectrum will often have a narrow and obsessive focus which is hard to derail, and go on and on about just one thing, until they themselves feel it has been fully and completely explored.
Which even to other Aspies may be a bit "much".

I have finally learned how to switch tracks and make myself think about other subjects. She has not quite mastered that skill. Which probably contributed to her academic success when at college, but left her rather isolated at times.

I flatter myself that I am very socially adept. Then I realize that I have been describing the precise angles of the ideal pipe for half an hour (in fascinating and engaging manner!), and that my interlocutor looks tortured.

Actually, closer to forty five minutes.

Forty eight.



All of this comes into sharp focus, because I got to hear about the fire drill at the office where she works at great and inordinate length yesterday evening. Apparently everyone on her floor has been designated a fire door, through which they must go when the alarm sounds, irrespective of where they actually are at that moment. Other end of the building? No matter! If downstairs, go upstairs, and head down the hallway to your designated door. If in the lobby, return to your desk before you evacuate.

You get the idea. The neurotics are in charge.

Us Aspies missed the boat on this.

We panic much better.

Logically.


"We're all gonna die! Aaaaugh, we're all gonna die!"


Let me tell you how.


Both of us may have a future writing emergency manuals.

This picture of a frog is here for no logical reason. It was added afterwards,
because this post really needed a frog. A spirit animal, as it were.
Please note that the two characters (田雞 'tin gai') mean
"paddy chicken", which is what frogs are called when
sold as food. Rice paddy chicken: frog. Ribbit.

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