Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Why I Drive People with OCD Crazy

Last week, I was hanging out with my group of friends from high school at my friend Courtney's house. To get into her home, there is a 3 inch threshold, so as is usually the case- we had to fashion ramp out of household materials. Luckily my friends are all kin to McGuyver, and soon we had a makeshift incline concocted in no time out of two giant 3 ring notebooks Courtney had saved from Nursing school. It is common knowledge that she is quite OCD, but I was not prepared for the magnitiude of her obsessive compulsion until I cracked those loose leaf bastards open and saw the most meticulous binder I had ever seen. [Tangent: After knowing these girls for 15 years, strengths and weaknesses are well established and roles are filled...basically you are free to call a spade a spade openly, so please know this is not news to her. She is the one I can depend will point something out to me when it is askew, or literally rip my glasses off my face when there is a spot on them...which let's face it is 99.9% percent of the time (because I'm a garbage person.) She is a nurse, so it is probably best that she is so exact and thorough. She doesn't just eyeball and duct tape things like yours truly.] Everything was pristinely highlighted and never did blue and black ink mingle needlessly; it was highly impressive. There were dividers and everything was evenly three-hole-punched. This could not be a farther cry from my college study materials, which consisted of handouts shoved in a folder and one wirebound notebook that I used for all classes. [Tangent: Yeah, and somehow I was on the Dean's list. I guess there is some method to my sloth.]

Looking around her home and seeing her dazzling Christmas decor completely in place before even Thanksgiving, I knew that if she were able to shrink down like Dennis Quaid in Innerspace to take a walk around my decidely un-OCD mind, she would be horrified. I'm not hopelessly disgusting, just really messy, and for some reason I don't lose things all that often. I just know my skill set, and organization is not high on that list.

Over the past week, I have taken personal inventory of ways that I know I make people crazy...so this blog post is an apology to all the  meticulous people that I interact with on a daily basis.

I'm sorry I don't always untangle my earbuds before using them [Tangent: and by "don't always," you know I mean "almost never."]


I'm sorry that my filing system is simply piles of stuff. 
is it irony that that slip of paper says "organization"


I'm sorry that no matter how much junk mail I delete, my home screen looks like this:


...and while we are at it...sorry my desktop looks like this: 

I'm sorry my purse is like the Barney Bag or Mary Poppins satchel.


Yeah, I know...I know... US Weekly will now never want to write a feature about my purse's contents, but I bet Hoda Kotb doesn't have a Ziploc'd slice of cookie cake and a stray D cell battery in her bag.

After reading this,  I imagine latent OCD is flaring up in many of you, and for that, I am sorry. I'm highly aware of my shortcomings, and know these little quirks/oversights must infuriate you. Thanks for loving me anyway...even though I am fairly terrible. 

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