Why the hell are you afraid of apple cores?
I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It’s not so much that I’m afraid of them per se. I mean, I don’t have nightmares about Zombie apple cores or wake up to night terrors featuring chewed up apple cores, browning at the edges and dripping with saliva…. but apple cores give me the heebie jeebies. The creepy crawlies. If I know there’s an apple core in the room, I can’t sit still, can’t relax, until that core is safely stowed in a compost bin or garbage pail.
Do you hate apples, too?
No. I love apples. Not green ones or McIntosh, but just about every other kind. In fact, a sliced apple with a sprinkle of cinnamon (or, if I’m feeling really indulgent, a drizzle of maple syrup) is one of my favourite snacks. However, sliced is key. I can’t eat an apple off the core – I have to slice it first. This habit stemmed from my teenage years when I wore braces. It’s thanks to Dr. Flynn (orthodontist) that I have had to surrender several pocket knives to unsympathetic airport security personnel. I always carry a knife, in case any unsuspecting apples get in my face and demand to be eaten. It’s good to be prepared. Whole apples don’t bother me a bit, but as soon as I see one with a bite taken out, I start to imagine the core that is yet to come, and I can’t do anything else until the core is disposed of (see above).
Doesn’t the thought of the core in the bin gross you out?
Not a bit.
What about other fruit cores and pits, like pear or nectarine?
They don’t bother me in the least.
What are you, nuts?
Do you have any other freakish phobias we should know about?
That depends on if you plan on feeding me anytime soon. I also despise empty yogurt containers and dried ketchup on the edge of a dinner plate. Please keep these items out of my sight and away from my immediate vicinity and we’ll get along just fine. Please note that immediate vicinity includes across the table, on the adjacent counter, or really anywhere in the same room as where I’m sitting. I may not be able to see it, but I’ll still KNOW it is there. And you will find me a poor dinner companion until the cup or ketchup is in the garbage or washed down the drain.
And on the subject of ketchup, it revolts me to see it being squirted into broth and cream-based soups, macaroni and cheese, or anything that is not either chicken nugget or french fry. If you intend to use ketchup in one of these fashions and I am in the immediate proximity, please distract me with a simple “Look over there!” so I do not have to watch that gross food atrocity and risk losing my own lunch.
Don’t you have a kid? Aren’t kids, like, walking minefields of food remnants? How do you deal with diapers?
I’m so glad you asked! My gross-out threshold is really only tipped by the above noted foodstuff. Sylvia’s yogurt comes in a one-litre tub, and I cut all her apples for her. When she is introduced to ketchup, she’ll be taught the correct ketchup usage – that is, only dispensing exactly enough to accompany her meal. Dirty diapers don’t bother me at all. I’m happy to look after all dirty diapers as long as Travis handles the yogurt cups and apple cores. It’s a harmonious arrangement.
Thank you for your question.