My disease

This is for Jessica. A little peek into the world of my OCD. Now I know it's not customary to let your crazy out for the world to see, but I'm going to do it anyway. May you still like me when I'm done (shut up, Daniel. People really do like me. You do, right? RIGHT?)

Here is a picture of the cupboard full of the kids' craft supplies. Yes, even when it's for them, it must be neat and labeled in tidy, plastic bins. I really ought to have at least 50 percent ownership in the Container Store by now. It's quite sad, really, that they all know me by name at that place.

1. I can only do laundry on Tuesdays and Fridays. If I miss a day for some reason, it throws everything off in my mind. It won't get done and I feel like I'm doing laundry every day (something I try to avoid), so I stick religiously to my schedule.
2. When I load silverware into the dishwasher, there has to be an equal amount of silverware in each little spot. I will pull a clean fork or spoon out of the drawer and re-wash it just to keep the numbers even.
3. I like things in groups of three. I don't know why. I just do.
4. I have to make my bed everyday. Even if I don't get to it until right before I climb in at night, I will still make it. Most days, it is made first thing.
5. I also have a very specific number of pillows that I need under my head and in between my knees in order to sleep well. Hotels never meet the quota, no matter how many pillows the nice ladies in housekeeping bring you.
6. It literally hurts my head if there is a crooked picture on the wall. It's all I can do to NOT fix it when I am in someone else's home.
7. I like to set my bedroom clock five minutes fast knowing that I will sleep five minutes longer as a result. The Husband can't stand it because he forgets and always thinks he's late. I look at it as a little present I give him every day - that extra five minutes that he doesn't know about. He doesn't see it that way though. It annoys him (strange, normal man).
8. I. HATE. TO. BE. LATE. To anything. I loathe going places with people oblivious to time. It stresses me out.
9. I clean and re-organize every closet in our house at least monthly.
10. I cannot go to sleep if there is anything that shouldn't be on my kitchen counters.
11. If I am more than four or five months behind in my scrapbooking, I will lose sleep at night worrying about it. I will then clear my schedule for the next several days and get caught up.

I'm afraid to give you anymore. I worry that you will have me sent to a nice padded room with lots of people in white jackets. Just take solace in the fact that most of my crazy is locked up inside for the most part. The crazy need not come out, right?

And I do realize that I'm not normal.

Now tell me what you are OCD about. Is it possible there is anyone crazier than me?

Didn't think so.

Having a little craving today

Does anyone else do this?

I am driving Chase to the doctor this morning (turns out he has pneumonia, poor little guy) and I am mentally going over my would-have-done shopping list for today. I calculate the speed at which I can whip through Sam's Club and debate leaving him home for a quick trip.

I then imagine the house burning down in my absence - a freakishly bizarre electrical problem that only happens one in a gazillion times. He and his little coughing self are asleep in the basement and don't get out in time. I am heartbroken at the thought, and figure that I'll have to go to jail for my horrendous parenting. I picture saying tearful goodbyes to the other two at the jailhouse door, me in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs. I also imagine that the Husband will wait faithfully for about two weeks.

By the time we reach the doctor's office, I am in tears over my lost child, my now motherless and abandoned children, and my burned-down house. I am also angry with The Husband for having an affair while I was in prison.

It only takes two minutes to get to the doctor's office.

It may take me all day to stop being mad at The Husband for having that affair in my imagination.

Real Life Cinderella

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Cinderella. She lived in a kingdom far, far away. She had a very important work party to attend with her husband. She had a lot to do in order to get ready for this big event.

First, she had chores that needed to be done. Which, for someone with a mild case of OCD like our Cinderella, means floor scrubbing, bathroom sanitizing, baseboard dusting, and closet organizing. Let's just say that it takes more than a few hours:

And like the storybook Cinderella, this Cinderella has her own arsenal of rodent-like workers who help:

Unlike the perfectly skinny, annoyingly cute Cinderella we all know, this Cinderella likes to eat. Bad things like cookie dough and ice cream. And since she forgot to drop eight pounds while she slept last night, she has to run hard in order to squeeze into that dress she bought two weeks ago:

Fortunately, this Cinderella is a realistic sort. She abandons all hope of dropping eight pounds before the party and decides instead to use this:

Our real-life Cinderella does have a fairy godmother, of sorts. Hers looks like this:

(And no, her fairy godmother's name is not Michael Berger. This is not an actual card, in case you couldn't tell. I've sent all my actual real cards to Mr. Liu Yan so he can process my nineteen millions united state dollars.)

Cinderella's dress looks like this:

(She promises it is much more flattering on her than it is on the hanger, especially with the help of some super-suctioning panty hose.)

And finally, Cinderella's glass slippers:

The modern-day Cinderella has a blog. She spent way too much time today doing important things like staging pictures for her blog, looking in the mirror, and taking a nap. However, this left no time for a professional manicure. She didn't plan that one well. She's not very good at painting her own nails and usually pays good money to have other people do it for her. She's slightly out of practice.


Her little rodent-like minion offered to do it for her, but she declined, not wanting to go to the party with half a bottle of nail polish on her hands. She did, however, let the rodent-like minion do her own nails, which made her very happy:

One thing Cinderella didn't leave to chance was the makeup. She marched her little self right over to MAC and had a spiky-haired punk girl give her the smoky-eyed look:

Unfortunately, The Husband was too enthralled with the fake eyelashes and slutty makeup to take a full-body shot of Cinderella in her dress. This will have to do.

All in all, it was a very fun night. Cinderella didn't lose her slipper, she didn't have to be home at midnight, and she got to go home with the Prince.

And they all lived happily ever after.

[Until the next morning when Cinderella woke up, had to make breakfast, do the dishes, pick up the laundry, and get everyone ready for church.]

Fairy tales are so overrated.

Our story

I heard the doorbell ring and quickly finished putting on my lipstick. One last glance in the mirror told me I'd made a good choice. I smiled at my reflection as I looked down at the red dress. I knew he would like it. I grabbed my coat, and ran to the door where he was waiting.

What was it about this man that made my heart quiver every time I saw him? He leaned casually against the railing, waiting for me. He was so dashing in a suit. He was tall and slim, and his toned muscles were ever-so-visible through his shirt. I wondered for the hundredth time what it was he saw in me.

He held my hand as we walked out to his car. He seemed distant tonight, distracted. He must have sensed my unease, and squeezed my hand in reassurance.

In the car, we talked quietly about our day. Simple, easy conversation. That's how it always was with him. No awkwardness, no pretense - it was effortless and comfortable. It felt like nothing I'd ever known. It felt like home.

We got to the restaurant and he held the door for me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed his hands were shaking. Insecurities clouded my mind. Had he brought me here to end it? Was this daydream romance going to be over so soon? I marveled at how attached I had grown to this man in such a short time. He was a piece my heart had been missing. His sudden arrival in my life had made me feel whole for the first time. I doubted my heart could take it if he walked away now. I took a deep breath and followed him to our table.

The waitress came and took our orders. He barely glanced at the menu and ordered the exact same thing as I did. We continued talking - the familiar ease washing over me. I began to let the doubts slip away. I focused instead on his dimples and slight smile as he talked. I let my eyes wander up to his deep blue eyes, surrounded by long, dark lashes. Lashes so perfect that women everywhere wept with envy.

After we had eaten, the hostess approached our table. In her hand was a small, white box. She smiled as she handed me the gift.

"The boutique next door is having a special, and some of our guests get gifts tonight," she said.

I looked up at him, smiling in my excitement across the table.

I tugged on the ribbon and began to unwrap the small box. He was silent. Watching me.

Inside the box was a silver bell. It was beautiful. I could hardly believe my luck. Such an unexpected prize. I never won anything.

But then I noticed it. There was writing on the outside of the bell. And inside...there was a ring.

No -- could it be?

I looked at him as tears filled my eyes. He stood up. He swiftly slid out his chair and put his napkin on the table.

He got down on one knee, visibly shaking.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, terrified.

Tears spilled down my cheeks and I ran into his strong arms.

"Yes, yes, I will marry you."

He took me in his arms and kissed me. The restaurant around us erupted in cheers and applause. For a moment, I had forgotten there was anyone but us in the room.

When the tears slowed enough that I finally could see, I looked at my beautiful, silver bell. He'd had it engraved to read, "You are the ring in my bell." He gently took the ring out of the bell and slipped it on my left hand.

It was a perfect fit.

__________________________________________

And so on that fateful night, 14 years ago today, I promised to be his wife.

And he has lived every day of his life since then in pursuit of my complete and utter happiness.

I love you, baby.

Nineteen millions to call my own

Check out the nugget that came to my inbox yesterday:

FROM: Mr.Liu Yan
Bank of China Ltd.
13/F. Bank of China Tower
1 Garden Road,
Hong Kong.

To whom it may concern:

I have a transaction of mutual benefits, which I like to share with you. It involves an amount of Nineteen millions Five Hundred Thousand United State Dollars only,in our Bank, which I like to acquire with your help and you will be compensated adequately as your commission.

If you are interested please reply instantly with your contact information and forward your telephone number so we may discuss and I shall provide you with the details of this transaction.

If interested send your response to my personal email address: mr.liu_bankofficer23@yahoo.com.hk

Thank you.

Yours sincerely,
Mr.Liu Yan.

I cannot wait to get my hands on my nineteen millions United State dollars. This SO has to be real. I mean, he's a bank officer. Look at his email. You can't have those words in your email address unless it's true. People don't lie. Ever. I've already forwarded all my personal information, credit cards, and bank account numbers, plus those of my friends and family. I cannot wait to get my nineteen millions United State dollars.

When I get it, the first thing I'm going to buy is a giant Santa blow up globe to put on my front lawn. You can come visit and see it. I'll use my nineteen millions United States dollars to fly you here.

This is going to be the best Christmas ever.