Finding Stuff. Doesn't seem to matter what it is. When my brother and I were kids and hunting for Easter eggs, he'd find them in places I'd just looked in and passed over. This once happened with a whole frigging basket. How do you miss a basket?
Fast forward 25 years, and I'm digging through electronic storage sites, looking for files. Still can't find them.
Taking compliments. Oh, I'm excellent at fishing for them, I just can't take them. Self-deprecation, if not my native tongue, is certainly my primary language now. It took me years to realize that disagreeing with compliments insulted the giver, not just myself.
Although, there was one time as a kid when I went in the opposite direction. I was about 4, and wearing a pink dress. A woman behind a counter told me I looked pretty, and I said, "I know." What? What's wrong with that?
Laser Tag. I was so bad I didn't know I was bad, until it was finished and we were handed our scores. Some people had 4-digit scores. Mine was 43. Can you die and stay dead in laser tag? Maybe I was dead.
Anything requiring upper-body strength. Now that you've had access to pictures, that shouldn't surprise you. Arms like toothpicks. It's a wonder I can lift my own hands.
Cleaning. This is probably because dirt, frankly, doesn't bother me all that much.
Liking vegetables. Never been a fan of the veggies. Better to accept the truth than live in denial. To be fair, though, they're awfully strict with the rules. My favorite plant-based foods are not considered vegetables. Peanut butter (from peanuts!) and chocolate (from cocoa beans!) and cows (from hay!) are all, apparently, in other parts of the food pyramid.
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