Thursday, February 28, 2008

Her DIRTY secret is a laughing matter

Someone in my life is one obsessive-compulsive dude. Here are a few of his rules:
Rule 1 — Dry the inside of shower after each use.
Rule 2 — A soiled dish in the dishwasher is a mortal sin.
Rule 3 — Never. Ever. Touch the red paint of his vehicle.

Some of my favorite moments involve the man who will remain anonymous.
Like when he helped me move with "The Chariot." His first mistake was where he parked. OPPOSITE of the parking lot to avoid "cherries on the trees" he explained. He didn't know he was parking parallel to the Doggie Business Zone. VERY parallel. In fact, as he dismounted The Chariot, his foot landed in a Great Dane-sized pile of difficult labor.

To complicate matters more, he climbed into his truck bed, leaving a snail trail of earthy goo all over his red paint... paint that has never been compromised by finger sinful smudge.

My second favorite memory happened last summer, when I visited HIM on his vacation — one that involved grass fields and campers equipped with TVs (don't you dare call that camping!). Unfortunately, HE had picked the RV Park from hell.

My poor, adorable nephew looked so deflated to be spending the week at the dump. He did what any 7-year-old would do. He found some dirt. He dug some dirt. He poured the dirt on his legs. His arms. His head.

He was DIRT MAN, come to save us from the DUMP Monster, who lived in the park's closed pool (it was July!) a.k.a. breeding ground for the West Nile Virus.

I was proud. I was gleaming. I was chuckling. And I was elated DIRT MAN wasn't coming home with me in my car!

The man with a serious anxiety illness (who would be giving DIRT MAN a place to re-energize that night) was definitely not smiling. If the Chariot was spotless, HIS Fifthwheel was virginal. He was twitching. He was trying to talk, but he couldn't formulate English-sounding words.

"Looo, Loooo, Loooooo," HE stammered, as DIRT MAN found a wormy side kick and placed him safely in his pocket. When HE regained motor skills, sadly, Dirt Man was defeated by his Kryptonite — The Hose.


Overreactions, freak outs and tantrums.

I asked HIS better half, "How do you deal with this?"

"That's easy. I laugh," she replied.

And if it's been awhile since she's had a good tehee, she might even touch the red paint.


"PoJo Princess" said...

Do you know someone with OCD? How do you cope?

Alice said...

I have two family members who are actually diagnosed with OCD, and the disease itself is not funny.

My father, on the other hand, who does NOT have OCD, is hilarious.

My mom used to play a game when they were first married. She would set the table, and try to make all of the designs on the plates face the right way, make sure the knives, forks and spoons were equidistant, and that the napkins were folded just so.

Without fail, EVERY NIGHT, my dad would come in and adjust the plates, knives and spoons so they were just right, and THEN he'd inspect the silverware for spots. (I don't think he notices he does it, but I catch him when I visit).

Used to drive my mother crazy. No matter how beautiful the table was, he'd fix it, and in her words, "Damn it! It looked better!"

Now Dad is retired so he sets the table every night anyway.