Run away, fast

I like to think I am an organized person. Everything has a place, and looks good in it's place. Not sure how I managed to convince myself of such a fib, because it is so far from the truth. maybe an organized mess, but that might just be pushing it a bit.

I have severe OCD with things, for instance if I handwritten something and I mess up even once, it will drive me completely insane unless I write it all over again. Drawers must be organized, and neat, bed must be made to look welcoming for my sleepy self at bedtime, dust is a big no-no, as well as dirty laundry on the floor. All of those things drive me nuts, but because I do have a full time job and only 24 hours in a day, it doesn't always work out. Which means my poor OCD starts yelling at me and I go running to hide under my bed.

Ohhh and let me tell you about the piles. Those damn piles. I refuse to put things away unless it gets put away correctly. Let me try and make sense of that. For instance, if something needs to go in a certain drawer, and that drawer needs to be cleaned out and reorganized, then I take out the mess and add it to the freakin pile that had the ONE item that needed to be put away in that drawer.

Do you see what I'm saying? So instead of being a good OCD'er, I am now an organized mess who hides under her bed alot. It is soooo much fun to be me.






Hubs is terrified of the piles. When I get home from work and start trying to sort things out, he comes in kisses me, tells me he loves me (just in case I get hurt in the line of duty) and then closes the bedroom door, and sits as quietly as he can, trying to keep the peace on his end. He does not enter until I emerge from the room in one piece. I think he holds his breath the entire time. Have I mentioned how bad I feel for him? Almost like the person who witness a horrific crime, they never are the same after that.