Okay Rabi, I'll jump.

three things I see:
1. My bag of soynuts. These are the yummiest things ever and everyone needs to try them. Yep, I'm forcing my interests on you again.
2. The plastic silver, blue and pearl tiara that Randy gave me a million years ago. One of those things I'll hold on to forever.
3. My lovely little betta, the only fish I've never named, and the only one I completely adore. He lives in a bowl with a peace lily growing out of it and though I never realized betta's actually grew in size, he seems to be getting bigger all the time so eventually I need to get him a bigger bowl.

three things I hear:
1. My own heart beating. Yes, I'm that freaked out/anxious right now.
2. The sound of the dryer buzzing as the clothes tumble round and round. Occasionally, something that sounds too loud or hard to be an article of clothing thump-thumps in the cycle.
3. The television in the living room. My mom is watching the news, I'm sure - ever glued to the set waiting to see the latest weather update.

three things I smell:
1. The remnants of my bath oil that has given me a baby-fresh smell all day.
2. My vanilla candle that sits nearby, for some reason refusing to stay lit - so it's vanilla, extinguished candle, vanilla, extinguished candle, vanilla, over and over again.
3. Cinnamon altoids - even after the apalling 10 altoid experiment during the blogathon, I'm still infatuated with these things.

three things I feel:
1. The roughness of the berber carpet beneath my toes; I keep rubbing my toes across the patterns, wishing it were sand and this were a beach instead of my room
2. The hard plastic arm rests of my chair which creak when I move and if I sit here to long the undersides of my arms stick to the chair as if we are becoming one.
3. My hair against the back of my neck which still feels foreign, as if I'm no longer meant to have long hair. It itches and tickles and sometimes catches me offguard and I think something is on my skin.

three things I taste:
1. The sharp taste of the cinnamon altoid; somehow enjoyably hot on my tongue, and fresh and cool when I breathe in.
2. Water, straight from the dispenser on my 'fridge. It doesn't taste quite right -- like water is supposed to taste. Which makes me wonder which version of water is right; tap, fridge, bottled, stream... do we even know what water tastes like anymore?
3. Occasionally, the aftertaste of my laste cigarette. This makes me want to quit, and at the same time, makes me want another one. Delightful response to such a nasty taste, don't you think?

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