Have you ever watched the TV show, Monk? I'd never heard of it until recently, but it's about this detective who helps solve crimes, but the focus is mostly on his quirky personality and severe OCD. We get a giggle out of crazy Mr. Monk because he freaks out about things like germs, personal contact, crossing the street, stepping on cracks, getting his hands dirty, not shutting drawers all the way, you get the idea...
So we laugh and poke fun at Mr. Monk and his silly behavior, but the other night it struck me...I AM BECOMING MR. MONK! I am dead serious. It's getting worse over time, and only recently have I really noticed my problem. I used to be so much more laid back about my living space...messy room, messy kitchen, dirty dishes, chung in the bathroom sink. And I'd get to it when I got to it. I don't know whether it is the fact that I own my home or have some nicer things now, a dangerous combination of both, or even a little hypochondria sneaking in there, but I am getting nuttier and nuttier and must protect MY STUFF as if it is my sole purpose on this earth. You're right, this sounds like a GOOD thing, but I go overboard, and I don't know how to control these new emotions.
I used to let crumbs fall on the kitchen floor, and Steve would finally sweep and mop when he couldn't stand my mess anymore. Now, if there is one crumb on the floor, especially AFTER I've just swept, I go into freak-out mode! Freak-out mode looks something like me slouched down on the floor mumbling, "I can't do it anymore!!!" with tears streaming down my face. How DARE that crumb fall on the floor! How RUDE of that crumb! And what awful person let it happen?! Usually ME! If it is someone else I WILL get over it...and most likely I will quietly get the broom and sweep it up. But if I ignore it, I can't stop thinking about it. It's poor Steve that I am worried about...oh man, my blood just boils when I see that dirt speck or grass blade or a goat head in the laundry room.
I am probably scaring you now, but don't worry, I am also probably exaggerating a bit. But I have to get this message across! And my message is this: I NEED HELP! I can't even enjoy a tv show while steve is using my new lap top because I spend the whole time worrying that he is getting it dirty with his manly outdoor hands. And I even worry for Steve's health when he lays on the living room floor if I haven't vacuumed in a few days. And I have a REALLY nice white blanket that I love with my whole being. But, can anyone else cuddle with it? They CAN, but it tortures me! Not because I don't want them to snuggle down in all of its wonder, but I imagine all of the possible grime and grit that will be on it after they are done. What happens if they sneeze on it!? Or accidentally spill a crumb on it!? Oh my god, I drive myself crazy. I do not like feeling this way. AT ALL. I want my best friends and family to enjoy my STUFF. So what do I do?!
I can't let dishes go unwashed for more than a couple of hours after a meal. I can't let the clean dishes stay in the dishwasher very long - it must be emptied as soon as possible! I can't mix my laundry - jeans with jeans, whites with whites, darks with darks, heavy with heavy, and on and on and on. I can't eat if I don't have a napkin nearby. I can't use a sponge after it has a HINT of moldy sponge smell. I can't cook dinner until the kitchen is clean. Am I crazy or is this all normal? Steve gets irritated by my nonsensical behavior sometimes, and I don't blame him at all...but he also said maybe it's a good thing that I want things to stay nice and last a long time. I see both sides, but I am about to commit myself to the crazy-house.
I do like the feeling of really taking care of things that I've worked hard to get, but I don't want my life to revolve around this stuff. I want to just be happy and not care and stress about stupid things. And, it's funny, because there are other things that I do not care about one single tiny bit. Okay, maybe a little. Like, washing my car, hanging up my clothes after I wear them, making the bed, dusting, cleaning the stove...so why do I obsess over something like touching my blanket?! I'll probably get over it sooner or later, but if anyone has any experience with Crazies, please let me know!
Oh, and Mom, remember in Elementary School when I had to go to that "Nonsense Class" - or did you even know about that? Well, I remember something about going to a Nonsense Class where I had to watch silly videos about animals doing and saying nonsensical things. I don't know if I had to go to this because I said a lot of nonsense in school? Or was it because I had a vivid imagination? Do you remember this, Mom? Maybe this will help me figure out why I am so nutty.
