Being OCD has different meanings to different people. To me, it means that I must count the steps into a truck stop. I must sanitize my hands 15 – 20 times a day. I must never step on a crack in the sidewalk (stress cracks in the concrete do not count… just the man-made joints…that’s the rules!). I must count all the ceiling tiles in the exam room while I wait to be seen by the Doctor. I must eat the veggies first, then the green stuff and then the meat. I must wash the right side of the windshield and then the left.
As well as things I must do, there are things I can not do.
I can not go into a casino. I will lose everything I have, borrow more and lose it and then I will sell everything and lose that too.
I can not do things out of order. I must eat the veggies first, then the green stuff and then the meat (more rules).
I can not go to bed without checking the door lock 5 times before I fall asleep.
Now that you know this, here is what happened Saturday night.
I did my laundry at a truck stop. I was in a hurry to get it done so I could get back out on the road. As I am folding my underwear, I folded one pair up inside-out. I looked at it and said, “Let it go… I’m in a hurry”. I then folded the socks, pants and shirts because that is the order they go into my basket.
I took the basket of clean clothes to the truck and just left them in the basket with the intent on putting them away before I go to bed, but I am still thinking about that one pair of underwear being inside-out.
I took off in the truck and drove about 100 miles into Alabama. I could not take the pressure anymore and had to pull off the road, dig through the whole basket of clean clothes, find the aggravating pair of briefs and turn them right-side-out before I could finish my trip. I could not go another mile with that pair of underwear hanging over my head.
What a life….. lol