Odd Duck

 

Yep, I am one odd duck.  No I don't quack nor do I have flippers on my feet.  I'm just... weird.

I was taking the family to meet hubby for dinner and the car behind me was going sloooooow.   As I drove behind him/her getting aggravated, I saw an arm slide out of the driver's window.  The hand flipped and bouncing on the road behind it was the plastic lid and straw to a fountain drink.  It peeved me.  I have zero tolerance for that kind of stuff.

Oh it never used to be that way.  I didn't give one iota whether someone littered, peed alongside the road or smoked around me.  Oh boy have I changed!  I would like to say that I've matured and leave it at that, however I think the proper description would be "anal".  I have become anal.

I am beginning to believe in the old adage that you grow up to be your parent.  I have become my mother.   My mother used to be pretty darn anal.  She never walked around outside in bare feet.  She hated when things were out of place, and she hated it even more to have a messy house.   

Okay, so I am not THAT anal, but I'm getting there.  

"Everything has its place and everything should be in its place."

This is a phrase that I repeat often to the kids.  I, like my mother, hate clutter in my house.  I , too, prefer to have everything in its place, particularly if I have found the perfect spot for it.  

Anal, right?

Right.

I am obsessive about having a clean bedroom.  I honest-to-God cannot sleep in a messy bedroom.  It's a mind fuck for me when I see clutter in my bedroom.  I just cannot sleep.  I know -- it's bizarre.  

In fact, I have trouble sitting in the living room to watch television if the room is messy.  I just cannot help it.  It gets worse as I get older.  It drives me insane and it drives my family nuts, too.  

It doesn't bother me if someone else's house is cluttered or messy.  It's only my own.  There is that weirdo thing again.  I am weird.  

I use hand sanitizer a lot.  Okay, not a ton, but enough for the kids to roll their eyes at me.   The grocery store I shop at has a dispenser with wipes in it so that you can sanitize the handle of your cart.  I used them.. religiously.  I have no idea where this came from -- this obsession.  It just was born out of nowhere.   I would say that this was ridiculous, but I have a tendency of getting a hell of a lot less sick than I used to. 

Excuse me while I sanitize now.. 

If I am organizing something, I have to have all of my notes, forms and paperwork in triplicate.  One copy for me to lug around so it gets worn and dog-eared.  One copy I can hand out, if someone needs it.  One copy for my files.  

Anal.  Yup that's me.

While I seem to have inherited my mother's anal traits, I haven't adopted them all, thankfully.

I love walking barefoot through the grass and feeling the blades tickle my toes.  I love feeling the morning dew wet my feet so I can run over to the driveway and make wet footprints.  I enjoy getting all grimy and dirty while working in the yard.  I never feel like I've accomplished anything unless my shirt, shorts and skin are covered in dirt.  I even still enjoy making good ole fashioned mudpies, although I am smart enough to not taste them like I did when I was young.  Ick!  

I'm a weirdo.  I'm obsessive to an extent.  

I need to end this.  There is a laundry basket in the living room that is driving me insane.  

Weirdo.

Yup.