The sniffles

It appears the Atheist Blogroll has been infected with a rather virulent meme. It has no herd immunity. There isn't a vaccination yet that cures bloggers of the urge to talk about themselves.

This particular meme replicates itself at an approximate rate of 1:8. By my reckoning, the entire human race will be infected within four weeks.

I caught my dose of it from Lynn's daughter. Now don't worry, I think I got a light dousing. Perhaps I've some natural immunity to these things; bit of a temperature and a familiar urge to self obsess, nothing more. I don't think I'll pass it on.

If you're fretting that you'll never get to tell your kids of the Great Meme don't worry. The odds are that you'll be infected any day soon.

These are the symptoms to watch out for;

• Sufferers will post a list of symptoms,
  
• The host is then compelled to share eight random facts/habits about themselves,
• The contagion is then unleashed upon eight other blogs (the symptom that I seem to be immune to),
  
• The infected are then informed that they've been 'tagged',
  
• The agent then runs off to the other end of the playground and hides behind the bike sheds.

Here's my eight facts and habits;

Habit. I like to rub the bit of skin that's between my bottom lip and chin. I do so with the side of my left index finger. At the end of the day, when my stubble has grown long enough, I find I get a satisfying rasp. I have no idea why I do this.

Fact. I'll be thirty five soon. This feels quite old, yet I can't shake off the feeling that I'm still just a kid.

Fact. I have very hairy feet. I'm convinced it fell off my head some time in my twenties.

Habit. I'm obsessively tidy. Also, I can't sit down for long periods. This means that I'm often found moving detritus into corners and cupboards. However, I'm a 'rammer'. Once the mess is packed into a cupboard, on a pile or under a bed I forget about it. Visitors do not get to look in our wardrobes.

Fact. For a Brit I have good teeth. I have no fillings, decay or wonky gaps. I was thirty three before I had my first dental intervention. Inconveniently it was Christmas Eve that a molar split in two. Four o'clock Christmas Day I was on a dentist's chair having it pulled out. I bit the dentist's finger.

Fact. Nobody will read this far. It really is quite dull. I think I'll stop now.