Just So

Hello! I miss you guys. You should see how clean this house is! The Pussies for Peace say hello and please send help. They're tired of helping me rework a couple of plot twists in my time shift novel. Maybe I'll make a video of one of our sessions. They get so out of hand.

Wait. No. No, no, nononononononono. I'm writing. And editing. And setting priorities. Like clean sheets for everyone! And homemade dishwasher detergent. And banana bread. Because we couldn't let those bananas go to waste, right?

So here's an edit for you - it's a blog post originally run on PoliTits back in 1947. Maybe 1948. I hope you enjoy it. Also, thanks to those of you who've made donations or, as Drydiggins put it, paid me for writing. You guys complete me.

Finally, if you hear anything about an incident at a CVS in northwest Georgia involving a silver haired beauty and some Dove chocolate, I swear it wasn't me. Well, at least, I didn't start it.


I joke about being obsessive/compulsive. I've never been diagnosed so I really shouldn't joke about it. Were I diagnosed, perhaps I wouldn't find it such an easy thing to joke about.

MathMan didn't realize the extent to which I may be OCD until I mentioned to him that sometimes I count things. He was surprised to hear this. I don't mean that I count lightpoles or the number of times I touch my face before I leave my house, but I count. If I'm not distracted by the television or by talking to someone, I count when I'm jogging or walking for exercise. I prefer to eat my M&Ms in a certain color order. Speaking of color, my clothing is hung in color order. I stack my folded clothes in color stacks.

I'm not licking light switches or plucking out my eyelashes, but the OCD has kicked into high gear again. A neat freak on a regular day, I'm dealing with a specific need to have things just so. Having the living room tidied before I go to bed isn't enough - the remotes have to be in the wooden bowl on the coffee table, the sofa cushions are realigned and I must adjust the blinds so that they are exactly even.  All the beds must be made each morning. Laundry does not pile up. I sweep and vacuum the garage.

The vacuum cleaner is like another appendage. My knuckles are cracking from scrubbing sinks.

I know what's at the bottom of the just so binge. I'm feeling like so many things are out of control that I'm doing nutty stuff to control what I can. It's what I do. That and hold my breath. That's another thing the family just learned about me in the last few months. I. Hold. My. Breath. And then I sigh. And they think that it's pissed off sighing when I'm really just catching my breath - breathe, damn you! - sighing.

I'm not the only freak in the house, though. I suppose it's okay to spill my own secrets, but telling the other occupants' secrets is out of bounds. That's a shame really. But I will tell you that someone in the house eats his food in stages. If there's more than one thing on the plate, say carrots, meat and bread, he will eat all the bread first, then all the carrots, then the meat.

Another person won't eat using metal utensils. Plastic only. And she drinks from glass only. No plastic. She's that particular about some things, but in the morning, she thinks nothing of plucking the chewed gum from her bookshelf where she's let it rest for the night.

Yet another possesses a bionic nose. This one can smell Strawberry Fuze (it's a drink) on a teammate's breath at 3:30 p.m. The teammate drank said Fuse at 9:30a.m. These uber olfactory powers are a blessing and curse, I assure you. He gets the gifts from his mother.

And then there's the one who refuses to wear pants. Well, except for right now and she's blogging it. 

But so far, no one is licking light switches.

It's sharing time! What makes you special? Tics? Habits? Predilections?