I HATE having a dirty kitchen. It makes me hivey.

OO! I also hate having a dirty bathroom. With three penises, this is going to be a full-time job. Pee-Patrol, I mean.

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I have to have the top seam of the sheets at the top. that area is folded over and sewed in place for a reason damnit, it means all is right with the world. It drives The Hubster nuts but if i wake up in the middle of the night to find the sheet sideways, I MUST correct it- it’s the ONLY way to prevent Armageddon

Like when you’re in bed?

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I’m with you on 1, 2, and 3, although I rarely ever use my dishwasher because I’d rather clean the dishes by hand and dry them and put them away than worry about them sitting in the dishwasher. My Diet Coke is Diet Barq’s root beer. It used to be Diet Mt. Dew, but a while back I thought it would be better to switch to something less caffeinated, and I got hooked on this.

I’m also neurotic about having clean floors. I hate walking barefoot and having something stick to my foot! And seeing little fluffs of cat hair in corners. I <3 my swiffer.

I would make slow, sensual love to my Swiffer Wet Vac. Seriously, that thing is an orgasm on a stick. Kind of like a beef kabob.

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I want my family to stop putting their cups on the window sills. They’re going to crack and ruin the paint and my kids can’t even fingerpaint for shit so I’ll have to PAY to have them refinished. And why can’t they wash their armpits effectively already?

And I wonder why MINE can’t wipe his ass properly. I’ll come paint for you, dude.

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I’m not neurotic at ALL… I don’t know what you’re talking about…

Honestly, when they named Hurricane Katrina- I SWORE they left out an “a” and it was really my daughter Katarina destroying Louisiana… Because she is THAT destructive. Not in a mean- I’m going to lay waste to everything in my path destructive- just in a “wha?? you mean the living room ISN’T supposed to look like a sock monster exploded??” or “but confetti is FUN so THAT’S why I’m ripping up a gazillion tiny pieces of paper and spreading them EVERYWHERE!!! It was a SURPRISE mom!! You’re supposed to LIKE IT!!!” and don’t even get me started on the sticky, icky, muddy, greasy, disgusting fingerprints everywhere… /sigh And wide window ledges covered in dirty little kitty cat paw prints- and I just kinda gave up. As long as my house doesn’t look like it should be condemned, and my throw blankets and pillows are all perfectly aligned- I can live to wipe up dirty fingerprints and spills and all that fun stuff another day.

Your daughter sounds like a cross between Alex and The Daver.

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Ok, I’ve been wrong this whole time. You DO have issues. Not that I wouldn’t possibly benefit from having your issues vs. my own.

Toothpaste. It’s abuse is the bane of my existence. Add saliva, and I just loose my shit altogether. When the kids spit it out of their funky little pieholes during their nightly brushing, they either get it all over my bathroom sink/s which, EWW. Or all over the toilet seat, which… EWWW. So I steam around after bedtime with a “disinfecting wipe” to bleach the evil, bacteria laden crap into oblivion.

I hate toothpaste residue on the sink, too. Blech. BLECH.

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The toilet paper has to be turned the right way. But with three cats who have figured out how to unroll it and make a big paper scratching pile on the floor, I’m trying to be resigned to having ot backwards until they forgot how much fun it is. But every time I have to unroll it backwards I curse their furry little butts.

MY CATS DO THAT TOO! HOLY CRAP! I thought I was the only one!

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The bed being made. Not because I care about how it looks but because it has to be perfect for me to get into it when I go back to bed later that night. My Hubby gives jackshit about this though. He can sleep half under a rolled up sheet with the blanket covering his big toe. I need a full sheet and blanket over me, regardless of temperature.

I think I need to START being more neurotic about making the bed, because I really DO love to crawl into a nicely made bed rather than the rat’s nest of sheets and blankets and pillows that I normally keep there.

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I am crazy about laundry. I hate, hate, hate it, but I really hate it when it gets fucked up, so I guess it’s more like a love/hate relationship. I do not want anyone touching my clothes, particularly my husband, who likes to throw everything in the dryer on high, and I usually don’t dry any of my own shirts or pants, and since he thinks there is only one setting on the dryer, if he tries to “help” me, my shit gets ruined, and then I want to punch him in the balls. So I think it’s a double edged sword, do it myself so that it’s right, or divorce. And please help me if my teenager decides to be “helpful”, towels will sit in the washer until they can walk themselves to the dryer, oh the lovey scent of musty/moldy towels. Gak. Makes me want to hurl.

I ruin laundry. I never was taught anything wise about it, so I just kind of press buttons on our Jetson’s-like machines. So yeah, my clothes? RUINED. All of them.

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I am ever so neurotic about my kids poop. When it happens, what it looks like, if it looks different from normal, if it has a weird smell……..Ohh, I’m ever so sick!

Not leaving my kids with babysitters (only grandma’s who I love dearly! and then only on rare occasion). My son has a few medical conditions and leaving him in the nursery at church makes me ill.

Hand sanitizer. We use that stuff in this house like an infection disease specialist would in the isolation ward at a hospital. (Yet, my son has had MRSA twice!)

Vacuuming the carpets. We just moved to a house with carpet. The old house had all hardwood floors, we just swiffered frequently.

When it comes to being on time you are me and my husband is The Davers. My husband piddles around and it drives me completely bananas! I want to be the first to arrive, even if it is before the bride and groom! If I walk into a room full of people I go a little nervous. If the room is empty and the room fills up, I feel fine……..gezz, I’m getting stressed.

I don’t do anything diet but give me Coke! I need lots and lots of coke and coffee to get through the day. My head feels all tight and my eyes all heavy if I don’t have at least 2 cups of coffee and 2 Cokes.

I’m with you on blogging too. I love to blog and to post comments on other blogs. Kinda makes me feel like someone out there is listening and when someone listens to me, it makes me feel all special and happy inside. Thanks for letting me post comments on your blog.

Don’t even get me STARTED on how frazzled I get when I can’t get to my reader in a timely manner. Mine is overflowing right now and it’s driving me bonkers. And, of course, I don’t have the time to sit my fat ass down and go through it all today.

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First time commenter here, have been meaning to pop my cherry for a long time, and this post is perfect for it.

I’m currently doing a Master’s and I need to hand in my thesis in TEN DAYS. Neurotic is probably the best word to describe me at the moment. I alternate between having complete “fuck it all, why did I ever choose to do this” moments and being giddy due to the fact that I will kind of get my life back after all this. All the while trying to retain control on the other areas of my life, so my apartment is very clean and my legs and armpits are extremely smooth at the moment, though obviously they won’t see the sun for another ten days.

Dirty sinks suck copious amounts of ass, my husband (another Dave, though I call him Dave-o) would leave it for a week if I let him, he says he needs to leave things to “soak”. I’m sure we’ve had a few spoons disintegrate in the process.

Anyway I also wanted to say that you RULE, and reading your blog is making my day-to-day thesis writing that little bit easier, so thank you for writing it!

Good luck with your thesis, yo! I know whenever I had term papers, my room was impeccably organized, my toenails freshly painted, and is probably the only time I ever made my bed. Hang in there.

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Milk, whole milk. Must drink full fat whole milk or the world will come to a screeching halt. Same way about 100% Juice.

If we must give the kids chocolate milk….it just has to be Carnation Instant Breakfast because at least it has extra minerals and vitamins. It drives me absolutely batty when my husband buys ‘real’ chocolate milk.

Fresh fruits and veggies. I give them to my kids at every meal every day or I feel like a horrible parent. The good news…they normally eat only fresh fruits and veggies. I can be a bit neurotic about food.

Lord help me!

I can’t manage to eat anything pureed from a can or a jar. Like spaghetti sauce or salsa. Makes me queasy just thinking about it.

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I’m neurotic about trying to KICK my diet soda habit. And by diet soda, I pretty much mean Diet Cherry Coke. I like the cherry aspect of it, and it’s probably the closest I get to fruit on any given day. I read Jillian Micahels’ book and now I’m afraid of Diet Cherry Coke forming cancer-causing ‘benzine’ as well as microwaving with plastic wrap. I’m also worried that I’ll go all glandular because of the TOXINS or whatever. But I still love it. I mean, it’s not like kicking heroin and seeing crawling dead babies on the ceiling or anything, but man I love my DCC.

You’ll have to let me know how kicking the habit goes. I quit when I was pregnant, but started back up immediately.

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Here’s a sampling of the mess inside my brain. In the interests of not taking up too much of your blog’s real estate (and to not expose myself as a complete head case,) I’ll limit my list to 5 random things I’m neurotic about:

1. My disdain for educators who use bad grammar.
2. Wearing red toe-nail polish at all times. No exceptions.
3. Wiping up sticky surfaces. I’m fine with dirty, dusty or otherwise grimy surfaces but for the sake of Pete, don’t leave a sticky mess anywhere.
4. Making lists. I give you exhibit A, right here.
5. My teeth.

I HAVE to wear red toenail polish too! I had them put on purple for my wedding, as a tribute to The Daver whose favorite color is purple and it looked…WRONG. And my favorite color? Pink. But I hate it on my toes.

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I’m feeling ridiculously neurotic about
- not having enough commenters on my blog, even though I’ve told myself not to blog at the weekend (so there’s nothing to comment on), and I don’t know why because I read other blogs at the weekend (as you can tell)
- my eating habits/weight/lack of exercise
- BUT not so much my health any more, because I went to see the doctor about that, and I’m fine. Not dying of cancer at all. Not one little bit.

Oh, and I get that anxious thing until I’ve blogged as well.

Some weeks I blog on the weekends, others I don’t. And the commenters will come. I promise.

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i’m going to staples today because i think that having new, and perhaps pretty file folders, is the key to me catching up on work. but i’m torn because i think new pretty file folders are lame and girly. and i still want them. and i can’t stop thinking about it. should i or shouldn’t i? should i or shouldn’t i? should i or shouldn’t i? i am obsessing about what kind of file folders to buy. right. now.

help.

Two words: Lisa (and) Frank. Solves it all.

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My pajamas must match.
My sheets must match.
I have to rearrange the living room furniture every 5 weeks. (Did you know if you don’t do this, the world will STOP! SPINNING!)

I also have to hang my clothes in the closet using the two finger rule. Two fingers between each hanger, and all articles must be facing the same way. Other than all that, I’m completely normal!

I just love you.

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I won’t even get started on all of my neuroses, but I will give you a long distance high five on the Diet Coke front. I love it. I need it. I hate that I love it and need it.

I recently discovered that drinking a cup of coffee delivers more caffeine directly to the part of my brain that makes me a nicer and better person. I’m trying to switch my morning DC over to coffee, but some days it just won’t do.

I double-fist a Diet Coke and a coffee.

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Manners. My children are far far from perfect, they are 3&4 and tantrum, bicker and sulk. But from the moment they could speak I have insisted they use please and thank you (or simplified versions when they were tiny) the result is that 9/10 times when they ask for something they say please, and they never forget to say thank you. I don’t think they are wonderful children for doing this, I think it’s just as it should be. However the amount of children I know when we’ve been at a play date who just say “mummy I want a biscuit” and mum just gets it, and the child takes it without saying thank you is shocking. If my children don’t use manners they don’t get.
Phew, rant over…. I hope.

I’m a nut about manners too. This makes sense.

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Diet Coke cans are Aluminium, not tin.

Anal?

Moi?

Peshaw.

Ha!

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I am neurotic about the softness of sheets. If they aren’t soft, I feel itchy. In hotel rooms, I will sleep on top of the comforter because they have the WORST SHEETS EVER.

Also, toilet paper. The paper must fall OVER the top of the roll….Not under! I will change people’s toilet paper rolls at their own house. Because Nel = Crazy.

I’m just jealous that other people have OTHER people that change the TP rolls. And I see what you mean about the scratchy sheets.

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right now? I am boob obsessing. My left is a fair bit more um, prevalent than my right and I am being driven to distraction

See, now I cannot tell if mine are lopsided. One of my eyes droops a little more than the other. I mean, I’m not like Droopy Dog here, but still. Shit, now I sound creepy.

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Have I told you lately that I love you? (Cue the Rob Stewert . . .) I love you. I find it absurd that I can get out the door with all 3 kids and enough paraphenalia to support a small village (which is pretty much what we are) and be on-time, but when you throw hubby in the mix, we are guaranteed to be at least 1/2 hour late. I too love an empty dishwasher and can’t stand when dishes are piled-up in the sink. I am also neurotic about vacuuming, and nothing makes me happier than the neat lines the vacuum leaves on the carpet!

I am currently feeling neurotic about my bedroom/bathroom . . . it has always been the last room on the list when it comes to style and the like. The furniture is mismatched, the style is hokey, and the paint on the bathroom walls wasn’t quite as dark as I wanted when we put it up there two years ago. I started re-painting the bathroom last night, and am on the prowl for a new dresser and nightstands. The state it is in trying to get from Point A to Point B is making my eye twitch.

I’m really looking forward to redoing some of the downstairs rooms in my house. We’ve redone two of the bedrooms and two of the bathrooms, but nothing else yet. Next year, maybe. But until then, I will wistfully read Pottery Barn catalogs.

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Neuroses.. hmmm. Lots, but here’s one that comes to mind. Having things put away in the WRONG place. If it’s not put away, I don’t blow a gasket even though I would prefer it to be put away, but to have things put away in a home that is not theirs? That will send me swearing and fixing like nobody’s business. This is ridiculous, I know. It makes it impossible for me to like having a cleaning lady or my mother-in-law to help out every now and then. And that’s just wrong. But what can ya do?
What’s driving me absolutely nuts right now, and I don’t think it’s neurotic, I just have to vent momentarily somewhere… is the fact that I can find shit in my house. I swear, there is a big black hole swallowing up everything on the fricken planet that I need, making things disappear without a trace. Now when that is a package of mailing envelopes, eh… it’s annoying. Currently, it’s my wallet and that has left me in quite a lurch. So I was actually really happy to have a post to come read right now. Thanks Aunt Becky. I feel just a tad better now.

I lose my wallet weekly. Nothing else, just my wallet. Which is shocking that it’s ONLY my wallet.

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Oh god, do you really want to know what I get all OCD about? Crap. Especially since I am so much more OCD than I used to be. Literally.

1. Hand sanitizer. I went nuts with this when I had 2 in diapers and a DS who needed help in the bathroom all the time. I now carry some with me at all times. I’ve gotten so over the top with it that I can’t touch railings on public stairways without needing to use some or go wash my hands. Ick.

2. Icky germ places like railings on public stairways. *Shudders*

3. Ears. This was probably spawned by the 3 sets of ear tubes 2 of my kids went through (2 on 1, 1 on the other) but good god. Ears must be cleaned! I clean mine every.single.day.

4. Teeth. They HAVE to be clean. Mine and anyone I talk to. I can’t stand dirty teeth. I’m always harping on my hubby and kids to brush but fortunately they don’t usually have dirty teeth.

5. Everything having a place. Ironically I’m polar about this issue. IF I organize something and put everything in a place, it sure as hell better stay there. And if you borrow something, you sure as hell better put it back. However I have 4 kids, 1 hubby, 2 dogs, and 4 cats. Let’s get real. So I will intentionally avoid organizing things because I know they will mess it up and then I’ll get mad.

6. I’ve been known to organize in such an OCD manner that I will color code the storage to the items they hold. Yes. My paperclips will match the color of paper they clip. I will put all denominations of money in my wallet, and my H’s wallet, together. Kid games can be a bitch that way. I also like to have all my DVDs organized by theme and then alphabetized within the theme. Not that they stay there either.

I think I’ll stop now. I’m starting to worry myself.

You’re seriously my hero.

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I am vacuum obsessed! I hate walking through the house and getting unidentified clumps of shit stuck to the bottom of my foot. I wipe things down with anti-bacterial wipes all the time, I must always have clean sheets, and I can’t stand weeds in my yard! Yes… I know I am sick, and I need help! I must do all these things while drinking coffee! (Which makes me even more nuts, but in a good way:)
Love mommyspaceblog.blogspto.com

I do it all while drinking Diet Coke. And I feel similarly about the weeds. In fact, after I finish responding to the comments, I’m a-huntin’ weeds.

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Laundry is my obsession. I hate, hate, HATE to have anything in the hamper. If I can’t find enough for a full load of laundry, which you would think would be damn near impossible in this house, I will actually fake dirty laundry. I just start throwing crap in there. I cannot go to bed with dirty laundry in the hamper, it, at least, has to be washing.

Dishes in the sink are another big problem. I can’t stand dishes being left in the sink. And after I put the dishes in the dishwasher and the sink is empty I have to take a soapy sponge and scrub the sink. I hate when crumbs and crap is left in the sink. I even follow up on my husband, if by chance he does the dishes, to make sure the sink is scrubbed.

I, too, love the lines on the floor after vacuuming. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like the world is finally a good place and the sky is no longer falling. Then it all comes crashing down when you see the little foot prints marching across it. I’m like, “Who the crap walked on mommy’s clean carpet?!”

I would say that’s it, but I’m pretty sure it’s not. There’s probably things that I do that I don’t even realize that my husband thinks is pretty crazy and he’s just scared to tell me for fear I might launch at his face like a spider monkey.

Vacuum lines in the carpet make me feel impossibly accomplished.

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I used to be neurotic about dirty dishes in the sink, but have mellowed as time goes by. In fact, I used to be neurotic about a lot more things, but then my husband started doing the laundry, and I kind of gave up my neuroses. Because, really, it’s more funny than anything that he puts lights and darks together and refuses to dry anything but t-shirts (and my bras, which are supposed to be hung to dry). In fact, I think that’s my new motto. I give up.

Also, I am absolutely convinced that not only does Diet Coke put some kind of addictive stuff in their formulation, they also put something in there to make you fat. Because the only people I know who are thin (-ish) and drink Diet Coke also don’t eat. Ever.

Maybe I need to stop eating.

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My latest obsession is picking up the kids’ toys whenever they’re down for a nap or in bed for the night. I know it’s a battle I can’t win but it’s so satisfying to see a clean floor when they’re not around.

I feel the same way. I’ve taken to routinely getting rid of toys that are left out for too long. The Salvation Army LOVES me.

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I’m not a very neurotic person! My husband has been out of town since Friday so the house has slowly slide into a scattered mess… toys strewn about, dirty socks left on the couch… crumbs on the table.

Let’s see, is there anything domestic which I’m neurotic about????
Nope.

Anything about the kids? Umm…. no.
Oh I thought of something! I love to read and we own 4 bookcases of books. Which are organized. According to my own personal system. I can’t stand it when someone sets a book on the -wrong- shelf. Ah ha!!! So there is something!!

My father alphabetized his CD collection and his books are arranged by some system I can’t understand. I guess this is proof that I’m not nearly as neurotic as I could be, because my books are in a sad, sad state.

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You know what beats the household OCD tendencies out of your system? A whole house renovation while you continue to live in the house. Dust on the floor? Live with the popcorn you scrape off the ceiling all over everything for a while. Sticky crap on the counters? Sticky crap on the counters covered with drywall dust. Clean dishes in the dishwasher? Having to leave the clean dishes in the dishwasher because if they go in the cabinets they get covered with popcorn ceiling dust/drywall dust/sawdust. Not being able to get away from the husband and kids for 10 freakin’ minutes? Not being able to get away from the husband, kids, various family members who are helping, various family members who just want to offer a little advice, and friends who walk in, say “better you than me,” and walk out. I didn’t take a single vacation from work the entire time because work was a safe zone from the chaos.

This makes complete sense to me.

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except for the diet coke statement this list would be my list. freaky. I mean even down to clean dishes in the dishwasher. the fucked up thing is that the dishwasher is not my chore. everything ELSE is mine, but I outsource all things dishwasher related because I don’t like loading or unloading. However 9 times out of 10 I am always the one tending to it as I like dirty dishes put in and not stacked on the counter and I like clean dishes put away as soon as the fog from the heat setting has vanished. I don’t care if the glasses are still so hot that they burn you fingerprint off- I want them away. So usually I end up doing it. And complaining about it.

I feel neurotic about pretty much everything. sucks

I knew that we were related, Cali!

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Oh, Gah. You may have just touched off the wave that will become the tsunami of Neuroses Posts. It was fun to read yours and I relate well with several of them. I am a laundry freak, myself.
Great idea, and I will link to you when I do one!

Neurotic posts freaking rule.

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Replace Diet Coke with Diet Dr Pepper and I’m with you on all of those. My hubs is always late – drives me insane. I can’t stand open cabinet or closet doors. Literally can not go to sleep if the closet door is open. Also, can only sleep if covered up and wearing socks. Even if it’s 102 degrees outside. I could go on and on. And I may on Stir-Fry…,

I can barely sleep unless I’m in an arctic wind tunnel and zonked on sleeping pills. I don’t know if I should advertise that

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Me? I’m not neurotic at all. Except of course the tp must fall over the top. DUH!

Re beef sticks, an ex-boyfriend used to eat them all the time. I once read the ingredients. Do you know they contain beef LIPS!?!?!? From them on I always referred to the sticks as “moo lips.” With the requisite mooing sound effect and poofing out of my lips, of course.

I think they’re made of lips and assholes.

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I HATE HATE HATE (even though I hate the word hate) to hear someone chewing or drinking. Makes my skin crawl. Even if its someone I love.

Oh you would so fit in here in Cairo, cause as you know from my blog they are so punctual here, haaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Mexico is like that. There’s Real Time and Mexican Time. I’d laugh, but it makes me stabby.

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the only thing i’m really neurotic about is the kitchen table being cleaned off. nothing can be on my table. i don’t care if shit is all over the cabinets or floor, but i hate being crowded when i’m eating or paying bills or doing homework. my husband just loves this about me.

This makes total sense to me. What DOESN’T make sense is that I am now highly jealous of your homework.

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The toilet paper has to come off the top of the roll, NOT the bottom.
I absolutely hate having my feet wet when I’m wearing shoes. Like, when its raining, I abhore having wet feet and soggy socks or even just wet sandals.
Sometimes I snap and everything that I was ok with being a bit disorganized needs to be organized IMMEDIATELY! Once its organized, I feel better.
Now, I must stop procrastinating and finish writing the corrections of a paper I need to hand in tomorrow to my boss.

I absolutely hate having wet feet too. Actually, I hate wearing shoes, which makes me sound like more of a hillbilly than I am. Shocking, I know.

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I am neurotic about keeping our DVR list nice and clean. Only things we have not watched. Delete anything that the DVR picked up overnight that is actually a rerun we have already seen. If my DVR list is in order, so is my life. Ha!

This probably the best reason that I don’t have a DVR. I’d feel a strange sense of accomplishment whenever I’d clear it out. I’d watch MUCH more television, for sure.

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I feel neurotic about NOTHING. I know that is crazy. I am just truly relaxing today and trying to put myself into a mental state to return to work.

Good for you, Karen. I’m MUCH less neurotic now that my dishwasher is empty and my bathroom is clean.

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After 33 years with a man who hung his shirt hangers exactly one finger-width apart, and a week with a daughter who moved the TV remote control exactly 2 inches because it wasn’t in the right place, I ain’t neurotic about nothing.
Seriously Aunt Becky, or can I call you Auntie? – you have too many children to be on time. Learn to use them as an excuse for lateness.

Ha! I do, most of the time. Well, no, most of the time, I’ve arranged it so that no one is expecting me at an exact time.

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i love the fact you are addicted to blogging.

i hate when people take weekends off blogging.

i can count on you.

x

Some people get annoyed by the weekend posting stuff.

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I definitely share the dc neurosis. Absolutely. I will scrape spare change off the floor to get one on my way to work if I am out at home. I now keep a 24 pack under my desk at school. It makes my day sooooo much better.

I am not neurotic about an empty dishwasher. I despise putting away the silverware so much that I am MORE than content to wash them once, twice, or thirty times until the silverware tray is so full that we haven’t got a single fork or other utensil in the drawer. I’m totally okay with that. Evenutally Ismael puts them away. And I’m okay with that too.

This is precisely how I get The Daver to fill up the cars. Works, too. I figure he owes me after I clean up all of his Sock Colonies.

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I have three no, four, no, screw it, I’ll give you three so that I don’t waste too much space:

1) Artificial sweetener. Be it stevia, nutrasweet, sweet and low, splenda or equal, I can taste the difference and it gives me the heebie jeebies. I HATE when people try to slip it past the goalie. I am faux sugar detective extrordinaire. Luckily, I don’t drink soda and I take my coffee sans sugar.

2) Good quality coffee – Must. Have. Starbucks. It’s not just the caffiene, it is the taste. All other coffee tastes like yesterday’s dishwater to me.

3) Blogging – I am so with you on this. While I can’t post every day, if I go more than two days I start to get nutty. I have sought out computers in the strangest places in order to get an entry in.

That’s the short list. When you are ready for the war and peace version, I’ll mail you a manuscript.

Dude. I’d love to see the War and Peace tome of neuroses. Also? DEJA VU. As I’m typing this. WEIRD.

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I hate it when dirty clothes are not in hampers, and it has become a bone of contension in my house because it seems physically impossible for my husband to put his dirty clothes in the hamper, he manages to drop them right next to the hamper, but can not seem to get them in the hamper. Some day this will force me to stab him and if I get just one woman on the jury I will be set free.

The Daver cultivates Sock Colonies. They multiply.

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My home would probably set your teeth on edge – the dishwasher is a storage place for clean dishes, the beds are usually unmade, the clean washing is allowed to pile up.

But as God is my witness, I will not be late. I hate being late. I always allow extra time to get anywhere, and I can regularly be seen screeching at the family to “get moving, hurry hurry we have to go now Now NOW!” even though we have time to spare.

See yeah, I scream that we need to HURRY! and everyone just looks at me like I’m speaking Russian.

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Bread Crumbs

For almost 25 years, hubby has been cutting bread and leaving bread crumbs on the cutting board and leaving the cutting board out. Almost every morning like clockwork. And he knows it bugs me to no end…and yet he still does it.

Bwahahahaha! I laugh because I understand.

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Love anyone who is willing to throw all their neuroses out there. The method I would use to narrow mine down to my top 5 would be a post all in itself. (-;

Thanks for your comment on my blog. Very sweet of you.

You’re very, very welcome. And trust me, this was the first 5 I could think of this morning after I rolled my sleepy-ass out of bed.

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A shiny sink is a happy sink. I also must make the bed before I get in the shower and I don’t mean just pull the covers up – it must look tidy and have the top sheet folded down, then up again, so it looks fancy. If I didn’t do this stuff, I might blow an ass gasket. And that would NOT be good.

Is it weird that I kind of want to DEVELOP this neuroses? Because I do.

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Let’s see…Hmmm where to start?

Diet Coke=LOVE…YEP I’d give up a date for my ever loving Diet Coke! Diet Coke never fails me.

Money…for the love of god! It needs to all face the same direction and face up–the paper stuff not the coins.

But speaking of coins if one more fast food drive thru attendant plops my coins on top of my bills to shove into my fat fingers…just ONE more GD time I might seriously go postal!! Don’t they know you hand coins first and THEN the paper with the stupid fucking receipt? Who needs a receipt anyway from a FF place…I don’t like evidence to my bad dietary habits.

I vacuum 5 times a day because any little crumb or dusty spot on my carpet seriously sends me into a tailspin. (I don’t even have any shedding animals…just one dog who doesn’t shed.)

Unshaved legs…all the way up–INSANE! I can’t do it…I must shave daily or I itch and feel icky!

I could go on and on but I don’t want any psychiatrists chasing me seeing $$ in their eyes…plus my sister is a psychologist and she still can’t help me so why do they think they could?

I might sell a kidney for Diet Coke. Because, shit, I have TWO of them, you know?

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Butter…butter…I have used three sticks of butter today. I made scones and mac n cheese and then I needed it for something…a snack maybe. And fish, and bread. god damn I love butter.

okay sorry I got lost in the first line.

Things that must be done in my home to make me a happy Boob. The pug hair MUST BE SWEPT UP DAILY. I have three pugs and they shed all day all week all month all year. Tumble weeds of pug hair waft through my home. I sweep everyday and often ask that it be done before I get home so I can vacuum the furniture.

Also, there must be at least 2 kinds of cheese in the fridge for my snacking enjoyment.

Marry me? And we can live together in butter-harmony forever.

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I can get behind you on the first one. I was raised that if you are not 15 minutes early then you are LATE and RUDE and a POOR EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING. I try really really hard not to project that neurosis driven judgment on my friends, all of whom are chronically late. Late like they are just thinking of getting ready to leave the house when they should have been arriving.

I let go of the dish & sink issue when I handed that chore off to DH.I am now all Zen about it. The dished will get done in their own time… I’ll just scrub the bejeebus out of the counters & the rest of the kitchen will sparkle drawing attention away from the smelly pile in the sink from 2 days ago. It’s his chore… he has his own way of doing things…. deep breath…

I’ve become neurotic about the living room. The toys must be put in bins (any bins will do, just PUT THEM AWAY) and the floor must be swept. Then I can sit & relax.

See, what’s weird is I don’t really care if OTHER people are late (so long as whatever it is that we’re doing doesn’t involve a strict time table with naptimes and the like), just so long as *I* am not late. Because then I will feel like a bad, bad person. Which is dumb. I’m a bad person for much BETTER reasons than that.

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The house (well fridge moreso) must have something caffeinated. Mornings that the above does not happen are not pretty.

Ditto on the empty dishwasher – same with the girls’ bottles – must be cleaned, put away, and ready if needed. Also, put used dishes in the dishwasher – hubby likes to just sit his on the counter. Drives me batty.

Can’t stand dust (might be due to my allergies but still – when the sunlight hits the coffeetable and it’s just all dust-covered, ick…………

Clean carpets / floors. I prefer walking around barefoot so would like all the surfaces my feet come across to be nice and pretty.

Dust and hair are my enemies.

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This week I am obsessing about the fact that my BFF has conceived the week my eighth non-baby was scooped dead out of my womb. Trying not to let thoughts of comparison swamp my mind: as I watch her belly grow, thinking ‘we should have been doing this together’, when I see her child go to school, I will think “mine should have been in that class” when her child has birthday parties “my child should be attending that party, singing happy birthday and getting high on chocolate cake, giggling with friends”. Oh the depths of despair the mind can plummet to. I would MUCH rather be obsessing over the cleanliness of my toilet bowl right now, let me assure you.

You have NO idea how much I wish that you were obsessing about that, my friend. I’m so sorry.

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Aunt Becky, omg, I just love you!! Also, in addition to your twitter updates, I think you most certainly need to post some pics of your green thumbness…

My neuroses? Is there enough room?
1. I use to be 1000% addicted to D.C. myself until an unfortunate bout of viral gastrointestinitis..which rendered me unable to drink ANYTHING w/the cola syrup in 2008..and I still haven’t recovered..Sprite Zero it is
2. I have to have clean fingernails and I will comment if someone around me doesnt..What can I do?
3. I hate, HATE crumbs in the bed. My DH is notorious for eating cookies in bed..UGH
4. I have to know where the remote for the TV & DVD player are AT ALL TIMES..most likely because I loose them so much
5. If I don’t charge my cell phone overnight, it imm. goes on the car charger on the way to work, no matter what the battery power is.

There are so many more, and not so much room.

I can’t drink Orange Gatorade for the SAME reason!

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Ah! Another Diet Coke lover like myself. I go to McDonald’s for the $1 large Diet Cokes as often as humanly possible (they know me at the drive thru if that tells you anything). I have been using “nectar of the gods” for years. YOU ARE SO SMART AND INSIGHTFUL AND PRETTY AND CHARMING! Just like me!!

There’s a REASON we were BFF at BlogHer! And it wasn’t just our collective sexiness.

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Crap on the floor. Not actual CRAP, bits of broken leaves, dirt, floating dust motes. Whatever. I vacuum the floor like twice a day. You know what else? Hair on the floor. I could make a really god-awful sweater out of the hair that has fallen from the husband’s nether regions, which, really? Makes me want to vomit thinking about it. How can one man shed THAT much? I’ll stop myself here. I could crash this site my neurosis.

Pee on the toilet, under the toilet, around the toilet.

My kid’s nose gremlins that hop out of his nostrils each night and scatter themselves about his sheets like disgusting like nuggets just waiting to be discovered.

Okay. Stopping now. MUST stop. Now.

Dude. Nobody wants to have The Booger Kid.

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mmmmm…. Diet coke….

Every morning I get up, turn around and make the bed. After I take a shower I spray down the bathroom sinks and wipe them out. Every other day I clean the toilets. My house is cluttered and messy but the bathroom is never gross.

Strange(r) obsessions… I only eat french fries with square ends. The ones with pointy ends taste different. I’m not vegetarian but I usually pick the meat off / out of things like pizza and pot pies. I am picky about how my clothes feel. Cotton is my friend. Those socks that everyone loves because they are so soft and fuzzy? Make me writhe just thinking about them.

I prefer the squishy fries. Ben and I have a fry system: he gets the crunchy ones and I get the squishy ones. Alex, when he decides to have a preference, will probably just want to kick the fries’ ass. Oh, yeah, that’s me sniffling with pride. Right there.

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dittos on the shaved legs, ellen. every day. or at least when i shower… all my friends in college would be like “dude, i even had time to shave my legs today!” and i would give them this hateful glare and be like “i will be late to class, dammit, because IF i shower (because i love sleep and would wake up 5 til class… more on that in a moment), I WILL FUCKING SHAVE THOSE LEGS!”
i love sleep. i already had a predisposition to sleep a lot, but 2 years ago i got mono and it’s gotten worse. only this spring did i actually start to have a regular sleep schedule; meaning, i can now go to sleep at the same time and wake up at the same time every day. but i always have a nap. i am luckily in the position right now that i can nap daily. my friends are use to me saying “no, i don’t really feel like doing anything right now. i’m going to take a nap.”
DIET-FUCKING-COKE! anyone who knows me knows i ONLY drink diet coke. even when i wake up, i crack open an ice-cold can of diet coke (god, just thinking about that delicious manna from heaven makes my eyes well up). my house is never without diet coke. and on the rare occasion that i don’t have a cache of like ten 2-liter bottles or a 12-pack of cans, i will drag my lazy-ass out of my seat and drive to fucking burger king or wendy’s and get one (the mcdonald’s here have really watery or greasy tasting diet coke. burger king’s and wendy’s never have the problem of having another soda’s lines crossed over. i guess that’s a sub-neurosis: fountain drinks. they are amazing. and only certain places’ drinks. and NO DIET PEPSI! i’m from the south and WE LIKE FUCKING CO-COLA! [that's how you say it]). and if, (when hell freezes over, pigs fly, and jesus does this encore that people are expecting) there is no diet coke, i will drink a lesser soda. but never, NEVER, root beer or dr pepper.
i am so freaking obsessive about time. i know exactly how long each task will take. i know how long it will take me to go to the bank, then the grocery, then get gas, and driving to all these places. i will then make sure i leave early. one of my friends seems to lack this superpower. she seems to be ignorant of the fact that she simply doesn’t have time to do something and then, when she starts to run late, she will freak out and i can only look at her and scream inside my head. however, i seem to have a unique problem: i will leave early, but i will either be early or late. and never just on time. i can’t explain it.
and i’m a mild hoarder. for real… i’m sort of like the old ladies who are found dead, crushed to death by their mountain of old newspapers and out-of-date aeronautical maps, surrounded by a collection of head scarves, napkin rings, and precious moments figurines while stringy-looking cats roam the house and lick themselves. i’m a lot better than them, but it does mean that i keep things (magazines, papers, notebooks, ticket stubs, the extra buttons that come with new clothes, all kinds of seemingly useful stuff). i keep it because i think that i might need or want to see it at some point, when in fact, i probably won’t. this means that i regularly have to go through everything (read: crap that i have no space for) and ask myself if i really need it.
my friends really think that i’m secretly old. like put-me-in-a-home old. i have bad joints (THAT ACHE WHEN IT RAINS!. fo’ real), i hate teenagers and their loud music, and i have all the weird neuroses mentioned above. so i’m secretly 80.
also, parentheses and ellipses. and lists. i seem to remember things better if i write it out. to-do lists, grocery lists, songs i want to remember, funny things, everything. it about killed me in college when studying because i would literally re-write all my notes. but it worked.
yeah, i definitely take crazy pills. heaven help me when i have kids.

This comment made me love you THAT much more.

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also, i’m really sorry that was so verbose. i didn’t realize it was so long until AFTER i posted it. i guess that’s another problem… total word-vomit.
and i’m sorry to the other katy who provides a link to her blog. i’m making her look crazy.

You cannot possibly apologize to someone like me for Word Vomit. Have you SEEN how frequently I post my bullshit here?

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1. diet pepsi: i would drink more water if water tasted like diet pepsi and had caffeine in it. someone should invent that. oh wait, they DID and they called it diet pepsi. water should get a life.

2. people who eat food directly from the bag: even THINKING about this makes me insane. the crinkle crinkle sound of the bag is like nails on a chalkboard. are you a hobo? do you want a pocketknife to open a can of beans to eat alongside your BAG of food? do you require a diet that is strictly PORTABLE? get a bowl. better yet, i will get you a bowl. i am not even limited to this in my own house; when i am at someone else’s house and they break out a bag of chips, i will go to the kitchen and dig around until i find a bowl. really, i am all about How to Win Friends and Influence People.

3. bread crumbs and other small detritus on the counter: ugh. gross. i can’t even wipe it up with a cloth. it has to be a mr. clean disinfecting wipe.

i could go on for a long time with this, but i won’t.

I’m officially adding “people who slurp their drinks” to my shit-list.

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HA! I cleaned my kitchen at 4:22 AM Sat, after falling asleep on the couch. I cannot wake up and be expected to feed the family and deal with the day if the kitchen isn’t clean. Then I went to bed.

The other thing that has to be done is the bed has to be made before I can get in it. Back when I was young and efficient, that meant I made the bed as soon as I woke up. Now, half the time it means that I make it right before I get in it. Wrinkly sheets just will not do!

You’re fucking brilliant, Lola.

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There isn’t a whole lot I obsess about. However, I absolutely, passionately hate having a messed up bed when I climb into bed at night. The bottom sheet must be neat and the top covers must be pulled taut before I get into bed. I don’t give a shit what it looks like the rest of the day but it MUST be fixed before bed.

I think I seriously need a making-the-bed addiction now.

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“Early is on time. On time is late. If you’re going to be late, why even bother showing up?” An old mentor of mine taught me that. I live by it.

Also? I get all twitchy when I can’t come up with a blog topic too.

Further proof that we are actually one person.

You know what, we totally are the same person.

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1. What to blog
2. To-do lists
3. Hanging the kitchen towel straight and just-so on the handle of my oven.

I could go on because I have tons of little issues, but number 3 makes me insane because my husband tries to make my head explode by shoving the towel – shoving it – into the handle in a dampened knot. What the hell is the fucking problem with straightening it and dropping it over the handle properly. Eight of the longest freeking years of my life spent with a man who refuses to do this one small thing for me. It makes me certifiably in.sane. and when something horrible happens in my kitchen I am sure no jury will convict me. Surely everyone will understand how irritating these things are.

Oh and people 4. who stop, actually come to a full stop, going from an entrance ramp onto the interstate. When rural folk come into Des Moines, they do this. They should be escorted to the county line. I say two things: If driving in the “big city” intimidates you then

1. you are not allowed into Polk County until 0930 and you must leave by 1500 (that’s 3 pm).
2. do not go downtown. We have one-way streets and clearly that confuses all of you.
3. stay home. Not to be mean, but just stay out on the farm.

OK, so my weekend sucked and you’ve let me be a bitch. Thanks, Aunt Becky. I love you. I am already married to a DC addict, but otherwise, I’d be all over it.

I cannot have towels on my oven for exactly that reason, Caron. Seriously.

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Me? Neurotic? Who you callin’ neurotic?
Now excuse me while I go scrub my toilet.

Bwahahahahaha!

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Must shave legs every.single.time.I.shower. I don’t care how pressed for time I am.

Mountain Dew is the sweet nectar of the gods…hasn’t anyone told you? Of course it’s also the reason for my big fat ass.

Bedtime for my kids. I’m home with them all day, so if they go to bed one minute later than scheduled, I’m likely to have a panic attack. My girls are in bed at 6:30. During the school year, my 7 year old boy is in bed at 7:30 or he turns into a pumpkin….a really nasty pumpkin. My 9 year old is allowed to stay up a bit later, but only if he stays in his bed reading a book, coloring, or listening to his iPod.

Mountain Dew reminds me too much of getting high and eating Taco Bell.

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Are you sure that your husband isn’t living a double life – The Daver by day, Chris (my hubby) by night? I’m totally with you on the late thing – drives me batty but lately, I seem to not be able to judge how long places take to get to. Actually, my biggest time management issue is how long it takes to get the kids in the car. It doesn’t seem to matter where we are going but sometimes the kids take 15 second from the time we walk out the door to get in the car and in their seats but other times 5 minutes go by and no one has a seatbelt on (the other slow down is putting shoes on).

I can manage to not walk in my kitchen before I go to bed so that I don’t see that there are dirty dishes (both the kind that you stick in the dishwasher and the kind that you handwash) left on the counter on my husband’s night to do dishes – I know, it’s totally wishful thinking that he’ll have done them before bed. I’m even lucky enough to have the light switch for the kitchen light not even in the kitchen (okay, so this is weird but we’re just convinced that the original builders of this house got bored and gave a house kit and some liquid nails to the original owner and said, “Here. Have at!”) but I simply loose it when he doesn’t wipe the counters after he does the dishes in the morning. I mean EWWWWW!!! crumbs, spilled dinner pieces, water that splashed up when rinsing the dishes, trash that the kids put on the counter rather than in the can, random things that got left on the counter b/c someone (not me) was too lazy to put away. And then on top of not wiping the counters, table or sink, hubby also doesn’t put the dishes in the drying rack away. I’ve gotten so obsessed with this stuff that I’ve turned P/A – I made a checklist, leave notes, and take phone pix that I send him at work. I hate being a nag but I’ve done the direct conversation, gone over what I expect and now, after all that honesty (8 years of it), I feel like he’s being disrespectful of my time by leaving the mess for me to clean up.

but my latest obsession is getting the highest score on Farkle… very sad obsession…

I am not sure, despite his laundry prowess, that The Daver is sure how to wipe down counters.

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I HATE being late. I, too, like to be early. My husband does not, but he knows that I can get panicky if we’re late (or not as early as I’d like to be) so he’s understanding. With the kids, it’s kinda a lost cause though.

I do the laundry. ‘Cause I’ve had enough clothes ruined. I’d rather blame myself than someone else. Now if I sort the laundry, I’ll let my husband run the washer. But I’d prefer to get clothes from the washer to the dryer as I don’t dry everything. Even after all these years, my husband still can’t remember what I don’t dry. And if he does put things in the dryer, I’ll go down and check to see what’s hanging up and what’s in the dryer. Though he’s learned to warn me that I need to check on his work.

I can be a bit particular about folding clothes, too. Well, my clothes. Okay, and my kids’ clothes. I don’t know why my husband insists on folding our son’s underwear CROTCH SIDE OUT. Does anyone do this? Really? And I fold my t-shirts a certain way to fit into the dresser. I’ll stop there on the laundry.

Oh, and I have to make the bed before going to bed – at the very least to evenly distribute the sheets and blankets. My husband does not. I’ve been known to tug and redistribute the sheets after he’s already in bed.

I’m ashamed to admit that I know much, much less about laundry than The Daver does. Maybe I need to find a book to explain it to me.

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I’m with Caron! The towel on the oven door. It’s not a tough concept people. Please, spend the extra 1.3 seconds and do it right. I have lots of towel issues, including; using my body towel instead of the hand towel for your hands and then leaving it crooked so it doesn’t dry, using dish clothes until they can stand up on their own and smell like the inside of a gym bag then throwing them down the stairs where they stay for weeks because you can’t be bothered to throw them in a bucket of bleach. Or the bucket of bleach stays in the sink for 3 weeks until nothing is left of the clothes but a few random fibers floating around a scum filled soap. I think Douglas Adams made me truly appreciate the beauty and usefulness of the mighty towel and now I must honour it.

Your Douglas Adams reference probably made you Daver’s favorite person.

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Noise when I sleep….Meaning I have to have some. Not sure if it’s b/c he snores like a freakin’ banshee or if I’m just used to it now…But I have a fan on year round. It’s so bad I have to travel with something that makes noise….God Forbid we lose power in the house….

I have to have two box fans on at any time I need to sleep. Poor, poor, The Daver.

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I can’t eat if I have to pee. TMI? Probably. But, lately, seeing as I am peeing 87,356 time a day AND cannot get enough to eat, it’s becoming a bit of a problem.

Ah, pregnancy.

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I’m with you on the clean sink and diswasher thing. But. I really really hate to unload the dishwasher. I hate it only second to putting away laundry. Ohmygosh how I hate to put away laundry!

Oh, and as for your last post – congrats and best of luck with the new gig. And, as my sweet husband says – cursing is my favorite thing to do

I hate putting away the laundry, too.

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OMG! The toilet paper!!! We have to keep the bathroom door closed because the cats would decorate the entire house with toilet paper, because it ALWAYS has to be loaded in the correct OVER position. And it IS always loaded in the correct over position, because I am the ONLY PERSON IN MY HOUSE CAPABLE OF LOADING THE DAMN TOILET PAPER!!!

Oh, and dirty glasses on the counter. Whenever I see them, I have to load them in the dishwasher. Then later my husband gets annoyed because he can’t find his stupid glass, and I have to tell him that if I didn’t have to pick up after him all the time, we wouldn’t be having this problem.

Okay, one more… When dinner is ready, being told to “wait until I get to a stopping point on my video game”. Seriously?!? I just MADE DINNER for you and you are telling me to wait??? GAH!

Okay, I’m finished now. Thanks.

Bwahahahaha! Loves it!

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I can die happy now that I’ve found your blog. I love it that much. I’m a virgin post-er so I want to thank you for being my first. I’m sure it will be everything I’ve imagined. On to the neuroses…

1. SOCK POOP! Those bits of sock lint that come out when my husband takes off his nasty socks and they just lay on the carpet to taunt me. Have to be vacuumed up immediately. And the balled up socks lead me to
2. Balled up socks in the hamper. Seriously, I am NOT reaching my hand into a fucking dirty sock to straighten it out before washing. The husband has learned that however it goes into the hamper is the same way it goes into the washer. And dryer. And dresser drawer.
3. Tea, not coffee. Ever. I loves me some Mrs. Earl Grey. We get it on every morning, at least twice.
4. No Diet Coke because it has that nasty aftertaste. I’m sure I’ll get shit for this, but I’m addicted to Black Cherry Fresca. I introduced it to my other friend, black cherry vodka, and they were made for each other.

That, plus a clean sink, straight kitchen towel, and perfectly made bed means I can get on with my day.

Dude. I MUST try that drink. I love Fresca!

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I HATE HATE HATE HATE raw chicken. I disinfect all surfaces that MAY have come into contact with the possible raw chicken juice. I sometimes find myself just wipping with the Clorox bleach wipe over and over and over even though I know it’s already clean. It really freaks me out, the obsessive wiping as well as the raw chicken juice.

I also do not like to unload the dishwasher in the morning. The mornings are already crazy, and I feel like I can’t do one more thing like empty the dishwasher. But this does not cause anxiety like the raw chicken.

We are soul sisters. I can’t prepare raw chicken and then eat it even AFTER I’ve cooked the shit out of it. I had a bad experience with a chicken stir-fry once and I haven’t recovered. What, me neurotic? NEVER.

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Cans. That’s what bothers me.

Cans.

I hate walking into a grocery store and seeing all the cans not lined up perfectly in an orderly fashion. And when the UPC code is facing outwards?

Oh yea. That one makes the eye twitch a bit.

We’ll just pretend that it’s a side-effect from working retail…and not the true obsessive compulsiveness that it is.

After years of serving, I cannot physically handle it when the server leaves my dirty plates on the table. Side effect of the job, I guess.

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Cans. That’s what bothers me.

Cans.

I hate walking into a grocery store and seeing all the cans not lined up perfectly in an orderly fashion. And when the UPC code is facing outwards?

Oh yea. That one makes the eye twitch a bit.

We’ll just pretend that it’s a side-effect from working retail…and not the true obsessive compulsiveness that it is.

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I always have iced tea on hand in my fridge. I drink it throughout the day, everyday. Also, I have to have gum when I’m driving. It just makes me alert and feel put together. One thing that kind of erks me is the toilet seat dilemma. My husband was raised in a “anything goes” home, so he leaves it up most of the time. Well, our 16 month old LOVES that. Double ew. Nas-teeee. I am also one of those mother’s that keep the hand sanitizer industry going. Cheers.

I second the iced tea thing. Especially in the summer.

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Neuroses I have a few:
-people who don’t rinse the washing up
- not shutting drawers after getting something out
- badly stacked dishwashers
- hair in plugholes – I just can’t deal makes me vomit every time
- people doing make up on the bus / train
- my hatred of the phone
- my failure to blog
- scraping the butter instead of cutting
- obsessing about pregnancy symptoms
and plenty more where those came from.

I *HATE* obsessing about pregnancy symptoms. Because fucking EVERYTHING can be related to pregnancy. Even pooping. GAH.

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I have so many things, so I’ll just note a few big ones.

I can leave dishes in the sink for a day or so, but when those dishes get either handwashed or put in the dishwasher, the sink gets washed with soap. I can’t stand not cleaning the sink. I also have to wipe off the water spots, finger prints, etc on the faucet. I do this at other people’s houses as well. Chrome is meant to be shiny!!

The toilet must be scrubbed. I do this at least weekly, probably more.

I hate, hate, hate the way my hubby folds towels. Doesn’t he know that towels get folded neatly in thirds and not halves. Bah! He does now, ’cause I tell him so every time he dares fold them otherwise.

I used to love DC (still do, just can’t have caffine right now *sigh*) I’ve made up for it with Fresca. Man I love that stuff! (Tricia, I love the black cherry flavored as well!)

That’s probably enough crazy…I mean neuratic tendancies for now.

I’m suddenly pleased that my sink isn’t chrome. I would have the same issues.

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I’m feeling neurotic that I read “if you squint kinda” as if you SQUIRT kinda”. Ewwwwwww.

I’m also neurotic about having the sheets and comforter perfectly aligned on both sides of the bed so that both of us have equal amounts of covers. I never make the bed in the morning either. Just at night, before we get in it.

I think “squirt” reads better.

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I’m neurotic about laundry. It must be sorted a certain way, washed and rinsed at the proper temperatures. Spots must be treated with the correct stain treater depending on the stain. Some things get dried in the dryer (some hot, some warm), and some on the line. Some things on the line are turned inside out so they don’t fade. All things must be hung a certain way to avoid unsightly clothes pin indentations. I have a certain way of folding things too. NO ONE can touch my laundry, but I’m working at passing this neurotic torch on to my 7 year old daughter.

Can I maybe pay you to teach me what you know?

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Wow, and to think that I was feeling neurotic before I read this. Because, see, compared to some of you guys, I am SO normal. Or at least, I’m not crazier than any of you.

I find it perfectly reasonable to rearrange the toilet paper in someone else’s house so that it comes over the top of the roll like it’s supposed to. In fact, I find it perfectly reasonable to find the cleaning lady at work and ask her to unlock the mega-roll container in the bathroom and rearrange it.

All the clothes in the closet must face the same way, and are arranged by style, and then by color (and then by size, since I must admit to having at least 3 different sizes in my closet). And there’s nothing unreasonable about the fact that they are also arranged by length, is there?

I’m sure everyone arranges CDs by genre, then alphabetically by artist, then by year of issue, right? (If musicians would only issue albums in alphabetical order, I would be in heaven.)

I cannot leave the house unless I physically have the key ring in my hand when I shut the door. Then I have to check to make sure the door is locked, even if I’ve just used the key to lock it – gotta turn the handle and push, just in case. Food should never touch on the plate, with the exception of gravy. And then you eat one thing at a time.

Hmm, maybe I AM nuts.

My food neuroses could fill pages of my blog. I’m kind of shocked that they don’t.

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OMG, I thought I was done, but I’m sorry, I just have to comment on Stone Fox’s comment LOL. The bit about eating food out of the bag cracks me up. I would either drive you insane, or you would be terribly impressed by my ingenuity.

See, I am way too lazy to find a bowl. And way too lazy to want to wash it up afterwards. But I absolutely, positively CANNOT stand to stick my hand in a bag to eat out of it. This, as you will agree, is a dilemma. So I am a bag-cutter. Yes, when I open a bag, I use a pair of scissors, and cut it down as close as possible to whatever is actually in the bag. And as the contents disappear, I will continue to cut off little strips of bag so that there is no more than an inch of bag above the food.

Yes, I’m nuts.

You say “nuts,” I say “brilliant.”

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i was just thinking how much i hate unloading the dishwasher

THIS is where having an 8 year old rules. Instant slave labor for my lazy ass.

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I could fill up a few pages with all that I am neurotic about! Here are a few:
1: Food cannot touch on my plate. Hence the reason I do not like gravy.
2: Toilet paper must hang over the top. I have been know to change it at other peoples homes just because it bothers me that much. Plus I must use ever last bit from the previous roll before getting a new one. My husband throws them out even though they have a few squares left. It takes all my willpower not to take the roll from the garbage can.
3: I need the sheets and blankets even on both sides. My husband pushes his half on the floor, kicks the top sheet all the way to the bottom, but my side must be just right.
4: Dishes need to be done before I go to bed. I hate to wake up to the smell of last nights dinner wafting off the dirty dishes. And all the plates have to go in a certain direction in the dishwasher. I will rearrange them if my husband fills the DW.
5: Clothes hanging in the cloest must all face the same direction, and be grouped by color. It takes me a long time to put laundry away, and my husband could care less if all his blue golf shirts are together or not.

My husband laughs at my OCD tendencies, but I seem to chose little things that I know I can control. Want me to come over and make your bed and organize your closets?

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OMG! I did not read the Beerladys post before I posted mine! Were we seperated at birth??
I am the same with the keys and I arrange all my books by author!

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1. Bad Grammer
2. Root Beer, I must have it! Every.single.day. or things will be very, very bad for everyone!!
3. My writing, I write for work. If I write a response where I quote the policy, and I include a copy of the policy then just sign the damn response already!! I am not stupid, I know what I am talking about and now we are going to pay for a tv when we could have given them a used one prior to the appeals process!! Whew! Sorry for the mini-rant there.
4. My books, my mail, my stuff. If I put it in my chair or on my side of the computer desk then don’t effing move it! It is mine, not yours, and it is none of your business.

Just a little neurotic here and there.

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Hi! I’m a total Diet Coke addict too. My son says to me the other day, he says, “Mom, would you please cut back on Diet Coke. I worry that you drink too much.” It felt like an after school special. I had to remind him that I don’t smoke, drink, do drugs (that he knows about), eat much junk food, or even drink REGULAR coke, and he’s just going to have to GIVE ME DIET COKE FOR CHRIST’S SAKE! That shut him up.

I’m TOTALLY waiting for Ben to give me that lecture too.

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My kids call Diet Coke “Grandma’s Special Drink.” My mom is obsessed with it, and I’m starting to understand why.

My neuroses are many and ridiculous, but one I will admit to is the sheets. I CANNOT STAND to have wrinkly sheets on my feet. The bottom sheet must be on the bed right, and the top sheet must be tucked in properly on the bottom. If it’s not right, I will get out of bed, regardless of the time, and fix it. I will be unable to sleep with those twisted up sheet bits on my feet. It really upsets me to think about it.

I am also slightly crazy about sorting. This is especially hard when you’re surrounded by small children, since sorting isn’t something they’re even capable of before a certain age. Plus I don’t know how any person could be expected to understand my many sorting systems. So periodically I take all the toys out of the toy boxes and rearrange them. All the balls go here. All the little animals go here. All the little people figures go here. But not the Little People; they go over here. Robots are considered people. Cars go here. It’s a little nutty. But when it’s done, oh Lord, it’s like fresh clean sheets on freshly shaved legs! (Quite a marvelous feeling, given that leg shaving is like a monthly thing for me)

My eldest is the same way about sorting. I truly hope that his kids are as OCD about sorting stuff as he is, or his head might explode.

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