Talk Much??

I’ve noticed recently a new quirk. I guess the quirk itself isn’t new, but it’s become more prominent. And I only do it when I’m alone, either in my car or at my house. THANK GOD FOR THIS! If i’m at someone’s house or have people over, I can leave the room if I have to. It hasn’t gotten THAT bad yet though. And I mean yet.

It will start with a thought. Sometimes the thought is a completely rational thought, other times it makes no freaking sense at all, and sometimes it’s sing-songy (WTF?). And I’ll think it, and think it, and think it.

Finally, the thought will start getting on my nerves because it will keep crawling back in. The thoughts are generally a sentence or two and that’s it.

The only way to get the thought out of my head is to say it out loud. So, picture me, wandering around the house or driving down the road, randomly spitting out one or two sentence thoughts that sometimes make no fucking sense. Like none. Or worse yet, singing a sentence or two that is obviously not meant to be sung.

My cat must think i’m just a riot!

Man, I’m fucked up Thank God it’s me though, because I don’t think anyone else could handle being me as well as I do. Woo Hoo!

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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*

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 :: :: ::

Could care less #6

Something I could give two shits about:

My CDs or DVDs don’t have to be in any sort of order, they just have to be present. I don’t put them in alphabetical order, or by genre, or by the year the singer OD’d. They’re just there, in their shelf, waiting to be listened to/watched.

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

I need a life

Actual conversation with my mother today.

Mom: So what kind of fun and excitement did you get into last night? [Saturday night]

Me: Oh, not much. I cleaned and polished my washer and dryer.

Mom: Really.

Me: Yup. And the facing of the dishwasher.

Mom: Oooh, exciting.

Me: Yup. I know it. I’m gangsta to the core.

Mom: You need a life.

Me: *Makes a face behind her back*

She, BTW, went on a date and spent four and a half hours at the Burger King, sipping sodas. And I’m the one that needs a life.

:: :: :: 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 :: :: ::

Could care less #9

Something I could give two shits about:

My kitchen towels. I have a large drawer specifically for them, but I don’t care if they’re balled up, thrown in there, folded, unfolded, wrinkled or just bumfuzzled in the drawer. As long as they’re clean, it’s okay with me.

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

Yes, the actual drawer.