The Imelda Marcos of lip balm, that's me

There are some big things that I picked up from my father, and there are also some little things that I picked up. This is about the little things. There are three: Chapstick, Visine, and the need to have a glass of water on my bedside table at night. Ever since highschool, these three things have been part of my life and routine, because that's when I first noticed they were part of his life and routine.

There's not a friend in my life who hasn't at one time or another commented on my chapstick usage. How I won't leave home without it, can open, apply and shut it with one hand only (such skill), am nervous if I think I've lost it, etc. Suffice to say that I'm known for it. It could easily be the deciphering clue between figuring out which Alison someone is talking about (assuming the other tell-tale identifiers, blond or champagne, weren't used).

Which Alison?

Chapstick Alison.

Oh, that Alison.

The chapstick has recently gone overboard though; and by overboard, I mean its numbers are growing as out of control as the Kudzu vine. I have three in my purse, three in the wooden bowl on my coffee table that holds the remote controls, two on my bedside table, two in my sock drawer, one in my overnight make-up kit, one on the silver tray in my bathroom, and about seven in the wooden junk bowl on my kitchen counter. That's 19 chapsticks. I like to have a back-up but it's beyond that now, isn't it?