Moving Around
For the first time, I’m blogging while looking out a window onto the perfectly uneventful yet scenic street below our apartment. I think, and K of the two blogs will likely concede, that many people have some degree of OCD. I read, or heard, or saw on TV someone explaining how these slight differences in our brains that make up the varying degree of mental health are the same differences that make us unique, give us personalities.
I’ve got some regular signs that, when mixed with my natural laziness make up the essence of D. For example, when I am sitting at a table for a meal, the cutlery has to be exactly lined up, with the fork on the left, and the knife and, if present, spoon on the right. Even when I eat at the ESD, I move my fork to the left of me. Despite this quirk, I’ve spent many years working in restaurants setting tables en mass, and never once have I set cutlery in perfect parallel dimensions while being paid to do so. My desk at work is a mess of papers because I’m a pack rat, but the pens, notebooks, and piles of paper are all perfectly square to their surroundings.But the point of all of this is to explain why I’m looking out a window. I need to rearrange my static surroundings about three times a year, and I have moved my desk, removed the hutch on top, and placed it facing the window. When I was a kid, I rearranged the four items of furniture in my room every three months. My sister and I even took the unprecedented step of switching rooms once. In my first university dorm, when I had a roommate who was either sleeping (until 2:00pm) or staying out with his friends (until 4:00am), I had the overwhelming urge to rearrange, but I only had half a room to work with, but I did it anyway. I also figured that since he was never around, had no books or computer in the room, and hadn’t taken his clothes completely out of his suitcase, he wouldn’t mind if I took an extra foot or two of area. And now, with the one room in the house that contains my junk, and our jackets – yes, my “office” is a coat room, I devoted my day to the celebration of that quirk. By the way, since May, when we moved in, this is the third configuration of said room.
D?
I need done whatever Adoring and Wonderful Husband won't do: put the lid back on the jar that holds the cotton balls, wipe off the food trays that serve as our table tops while eating supper in front of the TV after we've finished using them, and take the beer or pops out of the cardboard box they come in before putting them in the fridge. On these things, I am obsessive, though I doubt I would be if it weren't for the fact that it's Adoring and Wonderful Husband that doesn't do them, and not me. Ahh, married life. Could psychiatrists pay their mortgages without it?
Posted by
[insert name here] |
Monday, November 27, 2006