I hate that!

There many little things that upset/annoy/niggle me. I won’t list them all otherwise I’ll still be here at midnight, so I’ll only list the main ones:

Crumbs. Why, why oh why can people not wipe them up??? Rocket science it is not people!

Throwing a towel over the rail rather than folding and placing it. Don’t they know the edges NEED to be level?

Not rinsing a teaspoon and/or coffee cup, and putting in the drainer. Perhaps I should make them lick it clean once it goes all sticky and feral?

Dropping dirty clothes on the floor. They’d be in for a shock in my house when I tell them I wash in the laundry not the bedroom wouldn’t they? Particularly when they find they have no clean clothes!

Rings on the coffee table due to lack of using a coaster. Again, maybe I should make them lick it clean once it’s hard and crusty?

Leaving the keyboard drawer out after using the computer. Don’t they realise a person could crack a bone on that sharp edge? I’m here to tell you if I crack one of my bones because of your inability to roll a drawer in, I’m cracking more than one of yours, that I promise you!!

Not putting the X Box controller back where they found it. If they can manage to find it in there, surely it’s quite a simple exercise to reverse the process. Again, rocket science it is not!

Now you may ask why it is, these have been singled out?

Because in the last week (with the exception of the dirty washing one) each and every one of them has occurred in this house. Some have been MSO, others have been visitors.

The world is going mad and I’m a close 2nd I tell you! Perhaps a full moon is near? I’m off to check the calendar

Party poooper?

So I survived a birthday slumber party with several eight and nine year old little girls over this past weekend. Let me just say first off, I quit smoking in January and have rarely craved a shmoke. I dearly wanted one at 6AM this morning as they woke me up screaming and running through the house.

I knew that the girls would be in and out, in and out all day/night long so I didn’t make the house spotless before they came over. Yeah, it was clean. But, it coulda been cleaner, and I wasn’t too afraid knowing that my floors weren’t mopped, and the child’s room wasn’t spotless, and so on. I knew that once they left, I’d have the opportunity to fix and clean everything.

And I didn’t set any rules. No, I didn’t want to throw a bunch of rules at the girls, and expect them to actually listen. I didn’t want to sound like an old, biddy so I let them do what they wanted. Oh my freaking gosh . . . a mad house, I was in a freaking mad house.

I was literally going, OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG .. ! Oh – My – FREAKING – Gosh! Look at my floor! Look at my couch! Look at my kitchen! Oh my poor poor kitchen!!! Don’t worry cabinets, they won’t slam you shut much longer. No, they’re parents will pick them up soon. Oh, ‘fridgerator, don’t cry. The spilled milk on your shelves can be cleaned up. Oh there, there .. let me get it!

I cringed. And I cussed under my breath. I held my breath. I looked away, and covered my eyes. I peeked through my fingers and saw them pillow fighting with my couch cushions, and I was like ohhhh myyyy freeeeaking goshhhh!!

I finally got them all to settle down and eat some breakfast. Cake and ice cream for breakfast, all around! I sugared them up and sent their little butts home. And then I got to cleaning! And I cleaned. And I smiled. And I loved every minute of it.

Vacuum woes

I try to vacuum my house every day, so I was quite heartbroken when my vacuum decided to crap out on me. It was a very reliable vacuum, too. I’ve had it almost 7 years and it’s never given me an ounce of trouble. But gradually, it just started going downhill, not wanting to suck and clean properlly. I was not going to have that, either!

So it farted out, which meant I had a decision to make since buying a new vacuum is not really in my budget .. electricity for the month or a new vacuum. Which one – which one. It was an incredibly hard decision to make, but in the end, I made the ultimate decision of getting a vacuum. I just gotta figure out how I’m going to make use of it in the dark *sigh*

Gladware

What is it with me?  I cannot stop buying disposable Tupperware, preferably “Gladware”.  Just when I thought I had it under control, and all my tuppies are in order – I see they have Halloween Gladware available at Tar*get and Wal*mart.  Shit!  How am I going to recover from this addiction if they don’t stop coming out with cute designs.  I feel like a kid in a candy store when I get to that isle in the store.  I actually get a surge of excitement!  Adorable ghosts, pumpkins, and witches with different colored lids.  What could be better?

I hate it when I start out with PERFECT Gladware, and if I don’t take great CARE with it,  it gets discolored, or this kind of white crusty stuff on it.  If one of the kids throws it into the dishwasher with food bits in it, sometimes it becomes encrusted onto the Gladware and that means it has to be thrown away.  Even if it becomes to scratchy looking, it’s garbage.  It must be clean and CLEAR.  Why?  Well, it LOOKS dirty to me, That’s FUCKING WHY!!!

It makes me happy to open my cabinet and see all of my loverlies lined up and ready to go.  In all shapes and sizes with matching lids.  A lid is missing?  WHAT?  The container is banished to the garbage.  I cannot have an extra container laying around without its partner.  Why do I put so many into my shopping cart?  Well, what if there is a plastic shortage? 

  Does anyone else suffer with this?  When I saw the latest Halloween edition, I was piling it into my shopping cart like a mad woman, my son (11 yrs) said, “Wow, mom, do you really need all of that?  Didn’t you just buy some of that last week?”

Ugh, if he only knew the half of it!

~Bella

Online banking

A few years ago, my bank account was totally wiped out. I don’t know who did it. I don’t know why. All I know is that I went to the ATM one morning, and I was 500 bones in the red. The bastid had taken all of my money, plus some. I don’t have much to begin with, so when someone stole my money, I was completely heartbroken. I was devistated. I was angry. I was scared.

After many phone calls, trips to my local bank, and waiting patiently for two weeks, my money was back in my account. I was relieved, somewhat.

That was a few years ago. To this day, I still check my online banking at least ten times a day. TEN times. A day. Sometimes more, if it’s been stressful. I have to check it. I have to make sure that nobody is trying to take my money. I have to make sure that if something changes, I know then and there what it is, why it changed, and how much money is left. I never want to be in the situation I was in ever again.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::

Computer whizzzz

My computer. It is mine. The husband and child might use it occasionally, but it is mine. And I keep it the way I want it to be kept. I organize it the way I want it to be. I purge what I want gone. I keep what I want to keep. The files are kept cleaned out, defragggged, organized just right, and anything I see that doesn’t belong gets tossed out. On a regular basis.

I don’t keep emails in the inboxes. They don’t belong there. If they’re keepers, they’ll get filed along with the others. Or they’re just deleted.

Pictures and music files are not to be kept on the computer – They take up space. That’s what they make flash drives for. I don’t want the memory used up on my computer.

Even the desktop is organized and clean of clutter. I have six icons on the desktop. No more, no less. Only six because those are used the most often, their homes are on the desktop.

Noone is allowed to change anything on my computer. Not the colors, not the font size, not the volume, nothing. I don’t even want the monitor moved. It is mine. It’s how I want it to be. It shall stay that way.

Got it? Good. Carry on.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::

Erks me long time

Cupboards and drawers must always stay closed. I don’t want to see them open even a fraction of an inch. I don’t want them ajar . at . all.

And I don’t want to see anything poking out of them. No clothes, no towels, nothing. I like them clean looking so that means that whatever is in the cupboards and/or drawers, must be completely inside. No poking out. Ever.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::

Wax On, Wax Off

 

It’s funny how I expect people to just tolerate my OCD and love it, and me, but sometimes it’s hard to tolerate from others.  In some cases anyway.

Here’s the thing.

There’s a guy that sits behind me at work.  Something of a strange duck you could say.  Very friendly though, you almost CAN’T make fun of him because he’s so nice.  He’s very annoying though.  He is always butting into conversations, pretending to understand inside jokes.  Kinda like that guy that laughs at the joke after everyone else is finished.

I can tolerate all those things though, and would, if there was just one thing that he would stop:  The Mr. Myagi handrub.

For those of you who have never seen the movie, The Karate Kid, Pat Morita plays Mr. Myagi, an older Japanese guru of karate and all around funny quirky guy. 

Towards the end of the movie, the bad guys, the Kobra Kahn, and their horrible sensei, do an illegal move on Mr, Myagi’s star pupil, Daniel, (The Karate Kid) and hurt his knee real bad.  In the training room, Mr. Myagi is going to work his magic on the knee to bring Daniel back into the final round to beat the Kobra Kahn and win the championship.  His move starts with a loud clapping of his hands and then he FURIOUSLY rubs them together real fast, like he’s warming them up. 

This guy behind me does this hand clapping/rubbing furiously move about 5,000 times a day.  No shit.  It is immediately followed by a deep breath and him rubbing his hands on his pants.  It’s a wonder he has skin left, I shit you not. 

The LAST thing one person afflicted with OCD needs is another OCD afflicted person close by.  Because I notice him doing this almost every time, I have to count how many times he does it.  So, it kinda goes like this:

Guy :rubbing hands together

Me: *mumbling* one

Guy: rubbing hands together

Me: *mumbling* two

This goes on ALL day.  Not only that, but the girls that sit by me know that this seriously drives me mad so they do it too, which throws my count off.  Can you see the frustration I’m feeling here?? If i’m on the phone or go away from my desk, that throws my count off too.  This means the next time I hear it, I have to start over.

Days he is out are truly happy days for me.  My brain, and OCD, get a rest.

A little down time

Okay, so I threw my back out the other day causing me to be bed-ridden most of the weekend *ughhh!* which in turn made my house completely and totally unruly. It was a mess, noone picked up after themselves. The dishes were piling up. There were empty glasses in the living room. Dirty clothes were spewed everywhere. The dog was starving and becoming quickly dehydrated. I was not happy.

But then . . then, the husband decided he wanted “to help”. He did laundry. He cleaned the kitchen. He attempted to fold my towels. And he rearranged the bathroom towels. And he put dishes up where they don’t belong. And he folded my towels! And he swept the kitchen floor the wrong way. And he didn’t pick up the poop off the floor. And he folded the towels! And he left wet laundry in the washer. And he gave the dog too much water *yes, he can have TOO much* And and .. and he folded my towels!!!

I understand he was trying to help, but he wasn’t helping. Once I’m up and running again *which I’m hoping is tomorrow!!* I’ll have to redo everything. Until then I’ll just wince and cringe at everything he touches.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::

Nail fetish

I’m a nailbiter. I have done this disgusting habit for as long as I can remember. Heck far, I probably even came out of the womb with fingers in my mouth, trying to chew off nails with my soft gums.

It’s a nervous habit I have. It’s something I do when I’m bored. It’s a time passer for when I’m driving or riding in a car. It’s something I do when I’m waiting, even though I try to be patient, those nails always find their way into my mouth. It’s gross, I know it’s gross and completely unlady-like to chew on fingernails. I know this, I have been made aware of this all throughout my 28 years. I know already!

But, alas, I don’t chew my toenails, as I do know some that do. Oh nooo, my toenails are something completely different. The nails on me toes are always perfect.

Buffed and sanded, moisturized and gleaming. They’re rounded and shaped, oiled and painted. They’re top-coated and beautiful in a deep shade of red. Always. ALWAYS.

Even in the winter time when absolutely noone sees my footsies, my toes are always pretty. And they stay pretty. I make sure of that as I give myself a weekly pedicure. If the paint chips or smudges just a little smidge, just a fraction of a tadbit, I have to do it over again – All the nails. I have to make them perfect, even if noone sees them. I know that there’s a mistake and I just won’t have it. My fingernails may look like shit, but my toes? My toes are perfection.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::