Let me preface this blog post by saying that I totally get that for some people, OCD is a crippling disorder that, if not successfully treated, can keep them from living a full life. I am in no way making light of or discounting what they walk through. The purpose of this post is to acknowledge my own (self-diagnosed) OCD, and of course, liberally poke fun at myself. Anyway...
If you aren't the slightest bit OCD, we probably are not/will never be close friends. I'm going to drive you completely nuts at my house with the fact that, as soon as you get up to leave, I'm fluffing and putting back in proper order the throw pillows on the couch you were sitting on. And say, I'm at your house, you ask me to get a spoon from a drawer for you, and I see 428 kitchen utensils jumbled all hodge podge together. I'm going to self-soothe by counting backward from 1000 by twos so that I don't start visibly twitching.
Now please, do not translate my desire for order and symmetry in life into my having a spotless house. I live with three other people who forced me long ago to choose between having floors clean enough to eat off of and having a mind rational enough to tie my own shoes. I picked the latter. BUT, I still need to operate within the parameters of The System.
There are way too many levels and components of The System to go into right now. If I do, I will alienate those who have no OCD traits. And those who do have them might feel compelled to try and make suggestions to me on how I can improve The System, and then I will have to create a Power Point on why MY System is the best, and in order to do that, I will have to get my teenager to show me how to make a Power Point, which I have never permitted myself to do. For the same reasons I am not allowed to have a label maker, a Bedazzler or a police scanner. The most important component of OCD self-regulation is knowing your triggers and just not going down a dark path to Satan's doorstep.
Instead of detailing The System, I will give you some highlights. There are probably at least twenty in each room, but I limited it to two or three.
THE KITCHEN
-Spices are to be alphabetized. (Well, duh.)
-All dishes, cups and silverware must be rotated when they come out of the dishwasher and go into the cabinet/drawer, with the just washed items going to the back/bottom. (Totally makes sense. Why would you not want even use of your household items? Ridick.)
-On the stove, the salt has to go on the right and the pepper on the left. (This throws back to my days as a restaurant server, and has something to do with blind people, and hey, I don't mess with tradition.)
THE BATHROOM
-The shower curtain is never to be left even slightly open. (Mold causes us OCD folks to start keening and become irrationally convinced that we have instantly contracted tuberculosis.)
-Hand and bath towels are to be folded after laundering with the tag facing in and rotated per the same routine as for dishes. (Again, even use. Again, duh.)
THE BEDROOM
-Everything in the closet shall be grouped by garment type and then organized by color code. (Logic of the highest order. Let's say you want to borrow a grey cardigan sweater. I can tell you to go to the right side of my closet, lower rack, last grouping on the right, five garments from the end. After you have taken off your shoes to walk on my new bedroom carpeting of course.)
-Don't ever attempt to make the bed unless you have passed your Proper Pillowcasing, Hospital Corners and Five Steps to Pillow Alignment courses. (Seriously, an unmade bed is better than one that is improperly made. Momma Boots would disagree with me on this one.)
MISCELLANEOUS
-Odors: Okay, I am weird about all funky smells. But fried food smell freaks me out. Like seriously, freaks me the freak out. Can't stand it in my hair, on my clothes, GAH! So when the Hubs makes breakfast for dinner (his specialty), I have to open the windows (even if it's twenty degrees outside) close my bedroom door AND the bathroom door, and the second the dishes are done, I shower, wash my hair, and voluntarily go into solitary confinement in my room for the rest of the night. (I say that like it's a punishment, but most moms would give up one of their kidneys to spend an evening alone in their bedroom. But I digress.) Yes, the fried food thing is strange. I GET IT. Don't care. There are just three other people in the world that this has any bearing on, and they've accepted it. Probably make fun of me behind my back, but meh. I am completely secure with my oddball status.
-Grocery Bagging: There are a lot of reasons I shop at Aldi. Read my past blog post for the deets. One of the biggies is that I get to bag my own groceries. Yeah, baby! This is a recreational sport for me. Kind of like Jenga mashed up with speed stacking. How can order and logic work together to dominate space saving, efficiency, and ease of transport? YES! Okay, it's also strange. I GET IT. Still don't care. When cashiers compliment me on my work, it *may* ping the same area of the brain that is affected when the effects of heroin hit an addict's brain, but meh. I will never in my life win a Nobel Prize, the lottery or a prize drawing. (Seriously, only giveaway I have ever won in my life was a at a garden center for answering a trivia question. I won a plant. I was ten. Um, yeah.) So LET ME HAVE THIS.
I could totally write my master's thesis on this whole topic, but in order to not lose the six people who have made it all the way through this, I'll bring it in. The bottom line is that when you are OCD but cohabitate with other humans (and work in an elementary school to boot), you need the comforts of The System and its rules and rituals in order to cope with life. For me, you also gotta throw a big helpin' of Jesus in there. And a lil bit of wine. And maybe some cake. Just sayin.
If all of this has left you convinced that I am completely cray cray, s'alright. Like I said, I own and embrace my OCD lifestyle, and everyone who is important to me either shares some of my traits or just tolerates them. And hey, be happy that I'm not trying to create a System for YOUR life. I am too tired and too over 40 to try and convert the unwashed, honey. Just keep the salt on the right and the pepper on the left, and we can peacefully coexist together forever and ever, amen.
Sparkly Kisses,
D
