Placement Dyslexia

     I believe there are many forms of dyslexia besides the mixing up of letters. I have an acquaintance who is directionally dyslexic, she cannot figure out how to get from one place to another unless she leaves from the same point of origin every time. To get to my house from the church, she would have to return home first because she only knows how to get to my house from hers. Another friend has recognition dyslexia, she cannot recognize close friends if she is in the car, even if they are honking and waving as they wait side by side at a stoplight. And I thought one of my sons was temperature dyslexic because he would head for school in five below temperatures in a T-shirt, but preferred wearing in a hoodie in 87 degree summer heat.
     My husband is placement dyslexic, he has unerring instinct for putting things in the wrong place. If he comes home from work with an oily aircraft part in his hand, he will instinctively set it on the table cloth so he won't get the wood table dirty. He will bypass ten coat hooks in the laundry room to hang his jacket on a dining room chair. If we are transporting food to a potluck, he will automatically set the juicy, greasy or elaborately garnished item on the sloping car seat instead of the flat car floor. Not only will that make the dish more likely to spill, but assures it will spill on the upholstered seat, which is hard to clean, instead of the floor mat, which I can easily replace. He picks up jars by the lid, and gets furious when the lid is not on tight, but it would not occur to him to pick up the jar instead.
     And although my husband will happily pet a strange dog or cat, he limits touching humans to me and a select group of female family members. It would never occur to Reed to hug a male family member. His only exception is when someone he knows is injured, in that case he somehow manages to touch that person wherever they are sore numerous times, male or female. But I probably should wrap this up, Reed has chosen to eat his cookies and milk on the small table holding the fifty Christmas letters I have just printed along with the stamped, addressed envelopes, and I want to make sure they don't get ruined the milky way. The placement could be worse though, he might have decided to eat them on my computer.