I’ll skip right to the chase today. I’ve got a lot on my plate, so I don’t have time to muck around.
Today’s confession is this: Sometimes I feel CERTAIN that I have OCD. Here’s all the things about me that would make someone who knew me well think the EXACT OPPOSITE about me:
#1: I am a world-renowned procrastinator.
#2: My house is generally an unorganized mess.
#3: I have four children. At any given time, one could have on wool pajamas, one in shorts and no t-shirt, one could be wearing the church clothes they wore that morning, and the fourth could be completely naked. And I don’t care about any of it. As long as they don’t stink or have sticky fingers or muddy shoes on.
#4: My vehicle is dirty on the outside, and full of stuff on the inside.
#5: My desk is an assortment of unorganized “to-do” piles. Ask me for something, and then walk away while I scramble to find it. Don’t stand over me, because this is only going to make it take longer for me to find it.
So why do I think I have OCD? Let me explain:
#1: I am a procrastinator, firstly and foremostly, because I am also a perfectionist. Before I begin a time-sucking task, I want to make sure that I have enough time to do it, start to finish. I do not have a lot of “free, do what you want to, willy-nilly type” of time. So, things don’t get started that won’t get finished.
#2: My house is a mess because I have specific methods by which I HAVE to clean it. Sort of like #1. I have to firstly pick up toys, rogue socks, and other clutter that has found itself of out the spots they were intended to be…then there’s the wiping of things that are above the floor, then the sweeping, then the mopping, and then there’s the God-forsaken laundry routines that I have. To prove this, I can tell you that I do not allow other people to do the laundry, as a rule. I want to do it so that it’s done right. Sometimes people sneak in there and take a stab at it, but they seldom do it right, and I just start over.
#3: I have no explanation for this one. I just don’t care. Never have. When I see people with cutesy kids dressed to the nines with accessories that match and hair just-so, I think to myself, “How come my kid didn’t come out that way?…Huh.” And then I just go on with my life. My kids are the ones that go to school in a brand new pair of uniform pants, and come home that afternoon with a rip in them or marker scribblings all over one leg. They just weren’t born to maintain any kind of Baby-Gap look. So why try? I might be OCD, but I’m not dumb enough to waste any precious energy on things over which I have NO control.
#4: I’m simply in too much of a hurry to get where I’m going to worry about what stranded accoutrement remain in my vehicle. I used to drive through car washes, but then Little B came along and we witnessed the first total freakout moment, where he was so afraid of the car wash that he screamed and cried and jerked and kicked for the entire 4 or so minutes it took to get the hell out of there, that I think I was permanently scarred and I have since avoided that scene altogether.
#5: I am SUCH A RABID organizer that I organize, re-organize and then do that all over again so many times in one week that I forget what my current method of organization is, resulting in a mucky mess. Seriously. When I get everything just so, a project comes along and then when I get back to my piles I start all over with them. This is probably partly do to one other flaw of mine: When something is on the bottom of one of those “stacks”, I am likely to forget that it exists. Rotating those piles keeps things in my brain. I’m not sure that this is OCD, but it’s certainly some Pervasive Personality Disorder. Perhaps there is medication for this. But I’d just forget to take it anyway.
I was much better at being classic OCD before 4 kids and fibromyalgia came along. Now, I’m a tired OCD person, which isn’t nearly as impressive and it generally just makes me seem like a lazy slob. I wish I could pay someone to be OCD for me, but that would cost a fortune.