Greetings, it is 9:00 P.M. and I am at Starbucks and listening to the Challengers by the New Pornographers. It might very well be my favorite album of the year. Very Indie pop with lots of harmonies. Now don’t get worked up in a legalistic frenzy, they are a very clean band despite the name. I will explain how they got their name later. For now it is time to bring back a long lost segment. I haven’t had a lot of big incidents in the last few months but lately there has been a mild rash of them. So without further adieu I present to you.
Great Moments in OCD History:
I have to change the trash at work all the time. I have learned to do it with minimal anxiety, except for two cans in particular, the Women’s and Men’s restroom. It exists as a safe haven for germs, bacteria and diseases everywhere. I put on a pair of pastry handling gloves as I prepare for battle. I know these gloves are a feeble defense, much like France’s defense in WW2 against the plague of Nazi Germany, but it is the best I could do. I go and change the trashes. Easy enough. However, as I carry the trashes to the back room, disaster struck. Now generally speaking the men’s restroom is far nastier then the women’s, however I submit to you that the women’s trash is far nastier then the men’s. So it was, of course, the women’s bathroom trash that came open without me realizing it, spilling its contents across the floor as I walked away. I heard laughter and turned around. Horror struck as I saw what happened and I knew it was going to be my job to clean it up. I looked at all the dirty brown paper towels strewn across the floor and to my shock noticed there was something white and neatly bundled up laying on the ground as well. Yes, a tampon, a monthly necessity to every woman out there, was lying out in plain site for OCD boy to clean up. It wasn’t nasty or anything, it was safely sealed, but non-the less, I had to get close to the damned thing. This is one part of my future wife’s life I want nothing to do with, let alone somebody else’s. I did not want to even breath the air around it, lest I accidentally inhale some random feminine hygiene germs. I mean we are talking possible STD’s here. So I go get the broom and the long handled trash scoop (I don’t know what its called but it’s the kind they use to clean movie theatres etc.) I took a deep breath and swept it all into the scoop. Then I went to the back, let out my breath, dumped it all in the trash can, tied it up and washed my hand profusely while breathing in clean safe air. Now this incident wasn’t horrible compared to some, but it was bad, and gross, and the fact it happened to me, OCD boy, is just to rich to pass up. We have one more incident to report.
During the holidays there is more desert in a two week period then there is in the entire rest of the year combined. One of these deserts was a coconut cream pie. Now I have been doing really well with my diet and had decided to take the holidays off. I happen to be a sucker for coconut cream pie (And if you are curious, you can buy a whole one at IHOP or Denny’s. It is quite economical.) Now this pie was not whole, but about ¾ whole. Somebody (my dad) had gotten into it already. It sat in a cheap aluminum pie tin. I didn’t know how cheap until I pull it out. As I turn around with pie in hands, the aluminum tin folds in half. Everything goes into slow motion. “Noooooooooooo” I yell in agony. (Actually I think I yelled Damn It!) I can see the entire pie slowly sliding out towards the floor. I lower the pan to minimize impact and to my amazement the entire pie slides out neatly onto the floor without going splat or anything. It just sat there, on the floor, mocking me. Knowing I could never eat it as a horde of fell germs swarmed there way into the pie, breading in the sweet sugar and coconut. My mom came in, saw the pie on the floor, and started cracking up. What was I to do? We managed to put the pie back into a new, stronger tin and returned it to the fridge.
Fast-forward two days, my Aunt and Uncle are in town and for dessert we have chocolate pie and coconut cream. They don’t know about the incident. My uncle orders coconut cream. I raise my eyebrows and looked suspiciously at my mom. When it came my turn to order I said, “Given prior events I’m afraid I must go with chocolate pie.” My Uncle looked at us and my mom squealed the truth out to him. He laughed. I was amazed anyone would eat it until it happened. My craving for coconut cream pie hit me. I fought it. It was a furiously epic battle between my sweet tooth and OCD. I reasoned it had been in the fridge long enough to kill any germs. I succumbed to the temptation and I ate some of it myself. I still can’t believe I did that and I eagerly awaiting the Ebola I shall surely get from the situation. For my friend Nicole who sometimes reads this, you know you’re chunky when your sweet tooth overcomes your OCD!
