I’m pretty sure I have a touch of OCD. I’ve never been officially diagnosed, but I’m pretty sure I have a little nagging, whiny OCD gene floating around in my head that pops up at the most inconvenient times. Like when I’m too tired to do anything. Or when I want to relax. Or when I just want to complete a simple little project. And keep it simple.
But the word simple is not in my OCD’s vocabulary.
I once stayed up for THREE WHOLE DAYS AND NIGHTS – I kid you not – finishing a baby quilt for my son’s first baby. Notice I said “finishing,” not making. Read on and you’ll understand.
I really don’t understand why my OCD can’t tell me BEFORE I take on a project that he’s (yes, I call him “he” – keep reading and you’ll understand) going to insist, somewhere along the way – but never before I start – that I get everything absolutely perfect.
No, he waits until I’m about half way through, after I’ve made several minuscule mistakes that I tell myself are perfectly OK, that no one is perfect, no one will notice, no one will care. Just keep going.
Then, and only then, does that annoying little bugger pop up and say (for some reason always in comedian Louie Anderson’s voice, which is why I named him Louie and assume he’s male) something along the lines of, “Oh my. Do ya really think that looks right? I mean, you and I both know that you can do SO much better.”
“SHUT UP, LOUIE!! I will NOT dismantle the whole project and start all over again!! I will not!! Do you hear me? Well, do you? Where did you go? Get back here and finish what you started, mister. Humph! Fine. See if I care. I can continue right where I stopped and I don’t have to do what you say. So there!”
Only it’s too late. The thought that was planted by that nagging little brat OCD gene has already started to take root. And rather than fight it, I’ve learned I may as well get started redoing what I’ve already done, correcting the minuscule mistakes that no one in the world besides Louie and me will ever notice.
Because I’m defenseless against my little companion, OCD Louie. He knows me too well.
Like I said up there in paragraph two, simple is not in Louie’s vocabulary. He makes me turn everything I do into a major production. Like this blog, for instance.
I have a private Facebook page where I share cute stuff my granddaughter, Pebbles, says and does. I guess my writings have been somewhat entertaining because everyone says, “You should start a blog! You’re hilarious/witty/funny and/or have a way with words!”
I’ve been intending for months to start this blog. I’m discovering that, like my mouth, my fingers have a lot to say, too.
I’ve perused lots of blogs, getting ideas for how I want mine to look and flow. I’ve read lots of tutorials because that’s one of the things OCD Louie makes me do before starting on a new venture. He’s turned me into THAT person who absolutely MUST read ALL the directions before doing anything: playing a new game, operating a new household appliance, putting together a new toy for my kids when they were young. (Transformers where an OCD nightmare.)
It has taken me months to get the layout of my blog the way my OCD wants it. The actual blogging part is the easy part for me.
Having this special little friend tagging along everywhere I went wasn’t so bad when I was younger and had the energy to do all the stuff OCD Louie continually nagged about. But now that I’m older and don’t have the energy, that stupid Louie still nags me. Incessantly. Constantly.
So now I exhaust myself trying to ignore him. But he WON’T SHUT UP.
So I try to appease him by going overboard on nearly everything I do that can be done while sitting.
If I sit down to watch TV my spoiled brat OCD starts whining, “Look at all the tiiiiime we’re wasting!! We’ve got so much stuuuuff to do!! Stop watching TEEEEE-VEE!! WHAAAAAH!!”
Soooo, to shut the little brat up, I end up simultaneously “relaxing” by watching a movie with The Rock with my laptop on my lap, with one eye on the TV and one eye on the computer.
And my mind is. . .who knows where.
I’m jealous of people who have the couch potato gene. I want a transplant.
I think I’ll look into that as soon as I get finished with all the other stuff that OCD Louie insists must be done first.