I see faces.
(Not as dramatic as “dead people,” I apologize.)
I’ve always thought it was the immature part of me that zeroed in on this phenomenon, but maybe it’s my creative side instead.
There’s a commercial running right now, I can’t remember by what company, but it highlights faces found in inanimate objects. It is my favorite. Forget the dancing babies on the Dasani commercial, give me “faces” and I’m pleased as punch. (Wow, that right there is a testament to the fact that I rarely watch live TV.)
Take the drain control for my bathtub as an example. Two eyes, one engaging smirk and a nose that’s a bit odd. (It looks forlorn when the “nose” is turned the other way, thus it’s pointed up to highlight it’s cheery disposition.)
I shall call him Bob, as I do all things that I deem to be masculine. With such a jolly look on his face, you hardly notice that he lost an eye during the war. Oh Bob, you’re an inspiration to us all.
See, creative, not immature. At least that’s what my therapist tells me. *wink*
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