There's something about me you should know: I don't trust other people's mashed potatoes. It's possible there's some deep and complex pyschological issue behind this, but I think it's more likely that I just refuse to believe that anyone else could be as dedicated as I am to the task of making sure that ALL the lumps are gone from the finished product. As such, you'll never catch me ordering mashed potatoes in a restaurant or partaking of them voluntarily if they're on the table at a communal gathering.
Whenever I have to turn my cell phone on---and this is often, because I'm forever forgetting to charge it and so it dies a slow death, complete with desperate mewing sounds, which I guess are actually warning beeps, and then I realize that no-one's called me for a whole day and start panicking that I have no friends and no-one likes me, before I realize that my phone has just shut itself off because the battery's dead and PLEASE, I need to stop being so neurotic---it has a message for me. (Which is not "stop writing insanely long sentences," surprisingly.)