Friday, March 18, 2011
Every once in a while, I am struck with an acute case of OCD. It usually starts with the simple task of putting the dishes away or folding clothes. And it usually ends with the entire house torn apart. Food from the pantry on the floor, piles of laundry strewn throughout the house, and the stove taken apart and covered in degreaser stuff, and me now where to be found. But you would hear a soft sobbing coming from obscure corner of the house. And there in the bottom of some closet, you would find me buried beneath towels and cleaning supplies, rocking bath and forth mumbling over and over to myself something along the lines of "what have I done. what have I done." Today I came down with such a case of OCD and I am now looking around my house thinking what have I done? Who is going to put this back together? I guess I am, right after I finish rocking back and forth in a closet.