I refuse to believe that I am the only person on the planet with several neuroses involving fruit. See, once upon a time, I incurred a sinus infection whilst visiting a pernicious ex-boyfriend. Said ex lived in the basement of his mother's house well into his early 20s, so visiting him was visiting his family. His mother (make no mistake, by the way, out of the two of us, I made out with the better deal: amazing friendships with his mother and sister) took matters into her own hands and shoved an entire orange into my own weak hands, demanding that I finish it with no delays.
Here's where I explain something: I don't like oranges.
Actually, that's a lie; I like oranges, but in order to stick one down my gullet, I must undergo an intensely involved process of preparing it. First, I must have the proper tools: an orange, a knife, a plate and a pair of tweezers. I prefer to peel the orange, using the knife, and leave it on the counter for ten minutes to dry.
Then, using the tweezers, I peel the remaining pulp and strings from each segment. If this sounds like it'd take forever, you're right! Each segment takes approximately 2-5 minutes, depending on how much crap is on it.
That day, being forced to consume an entire orange without the appropriate prep-work left me gagging. So somehow, I forgot about this event when, two weeks ago, I decided to buy an entire flat of oranges, of which I've consumed two. The other day, peeling my orange, I remembered it. Nevertheless, I carried on, and removed all the strings, then ate my orange, segment by segment.