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*

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 :: :: ::

OCD, When it first cropped up.

I noticed the first signs of O.C.D. (for those of you who are not familiar with the term, it stands for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) cropping up after I had my first son (back in 1991). I started to compulsively wash my hands. I had seen a show on, yes, Oprah about O.C.D and I’ll never forget the moment it occurred to me as I stood hovering the sink washing my hands for the ump-teenth time that THIS WAS indeed becoming some type bizarre ritual for me. Shoot, my hands were starting to crack from being washed so often. I then, forbid myself to “over wash” my hands because I didn’t want to wind up on the Oprah Show as her next freakish guest.   I am grateful to that show because otherwise, I would never had known I was doing something out of the norm.

Then it took a turn for the worse, consuming my mind and making me miserable and anxious (especially at night making it difficult, if not impossible) to fall asleep. Here’s just one example. Let’s say the husband and I took our son on a hiking trip.  Oh, it was a beautiful sunny day.  Some areas were high, and we came upon several cliffs.  I had an eagle eye on my son, there was never danger involved.  However, that night as I lay in bed… my body was just starting to relax, my mind wandered, and BAM!  I would envision us at the top of this cliff and my son would toddle off the end, falling to his death!  My heart would freeze and I’d literally jump up from my rest!  WTH?  Just as I would lay there and reassure myself that my son was safely sleeping in his crib and all was ok, the next horrific scene would pop into my head and cause greater anxiety!

Then came the cleaning. It had to be done. And, not just a quick “once over”. No, I had to thoroughly clean every nook and cranny. This was quickly beginning to wear me out and make me feel rather incompetent. Because not only was I a new bride and mother with all that entailed, I began on a journey of something that could never be accomplished; pure perfection!  Cleaning had to be done my way or the highway! I even use to clean at my sisters house when I’d go over there for a visit (nearly every day). Even taking off her plastic shower curtain liner and putting it in her washing machine before scouring her bathroom.

It got to the point where she said one day, “You know, you don’t have to come over and clean, you could just come over and visit” and I was like, “Huh?” I wasn’t doing it for her (Silly Billy!). I was doing it for me. For my peace of mind! I guess in my mind, it was some fantasy, when I came to her house, it was a hot mess, but when I left it was gleaming! So, in my mind, it would stay that way? Hmph!

I couldn’t even leave my house before it was spotless. Even just to go to the grocery store because if I shopped and came home, and things were messy that might send me over the edge? Holy cow, was the world going to come to an end?

These days, my OCD has tamed down a lot. I take meds for depression and anxiety and it must helps with the anxiety ridden thoughts associated with OCD too. Now, I just catch myself doing these quirky little things that seem harmless; I really just try to keep them in check. I allow myself just a few. My husband doesn’t even know this but…

I’ve already told you about the nick in the elevator wall at work that I have to touch when the elevator begins to move, about the obsession I have with the cruise control button in my car, but I thought about one more that I have never told to a soul, until now.

Again, this is one that I do at work. When walking down the quiet halls in the wee hours of the night; when I pass this certain hall intersection, a type of alarm sounds – I keep walking, only, this time I walk a bit faster and try to get to the next hallway “intersection” without taking a breath because it would be bad luck…. OMG, I cannot believe I wrote this down. It’s so childish, it’s almost like while walking with my siblings or friends as a child someone would say, “Step on a crack you break your mama’s back!” — it’s exactly the same thing. Only, I’m not a kid, and I know I cannot have bad luck from taking a breath while this little alarm buzzes. I literally have to MOVE f-a-s-t before I take a breath and take a step over onto the next hallway for safe passage.

I’m a freak, don’t ‘cha just love it? What about you? What form is your OCD taking these days?