I know, it should be OCD. But because of it I must move the letters in alphabetical order thus I will from now on refer to it as CDO. No, I won't get-over myself.
I've known I was like this for quite a while. Probably forever. Now don't go thinking I have a spotless house and a neat and organized life, I don't. Which is very very hard on the brain since I have CDO. It appears to be a family trait since I can name easily ten relatives who are like me on both sides of my family. Some have it worse than others. Some are crazy - I can point them out to you if you like. They are mostly lurking on Pinterest pinning organizing tips.
They are carrying dusting rags and have crazy eyes.
Too bad we didn't inherit the "wealthy" gene instead. Then we could hire someone to make things "just so". But they'd have to be perfect to our standards and that can become tiring because our standards are ever-changing.
Having CDO takes a lot of time. I can't wash, fold, and put away my clothes. First, like most normal people I have to sort them before washing. Have you ever run around the house looking for two more white or light colored cotton items to make the load you want to run completely full? I have. How do you define full? Two more items is how I define full. Doesn't matter what they are they could be two socks. Full is full. It's not rationally explainable to those without CDO.
Once the clothes are properly sorted, washed, and dried comes the task of folding and putting away. I fold all the t-shirt first in a certain way. Then I do underclothes. Then I do pants. The pants MUST go at the bottom of the basket not the top. The top means the t-shirts are squashed and I can't have squashed t-shirts. Socks always come last. If I have worn a dress or skirt that week I'm screwed since that can't be washed, dried or folded with "regular" clothes. I have a lot of angst over things that can't be washed, dried, or folded with "regular" clothes.
Putting them away is no better. By color, lightest to darkest. "Good" socks are in the front of the sock basket. I have no bad socks - white athletic socks you'd wear with sneakers go in the back. Same for panties and bras. Anything on a hanger is light to dark and then cross-sorted by casual to dressy.
It's not just clothing. Everything I touch has to have an "order" to it. Spices, alphabetical order by spice and then cross referenced by cooking or baking. Wooden spoons stand in the baking utensil jar. Spatulas must stand in the cooking utensil jar. If the dishwasher is emptied and someone puts something in the wrong jar I can try to ignore it but anyone that knows me knows that within a few minutes I will walk back into the kitchen (if I can even go that long) and put them in the correct jar. Even coffee cups and drinking glasses have to be in a certain order which I've given up trying to explain to my spawn. She just doesn't get it.
Can goods have to be with can goods, sorted by type, soup in the back (no clue why - perhaps it's soup time-out). Boxes in order by type and size. It's exhausting to be like this but pretty orderly too. I can tell if something is out of it's place even before I look at it. It sends me vibes. No medication can not stop the boxes from sending vibes to me.
I rearrange the shower back to it's proper order every time I step in it. My family still has no grasp on how "things" should be. They have yet to figure out how to hang their damp towels straight, not crooked, on the shower rod.
I saved toilet paper rolls for a month so all our device cords could be wrangled in our device drawer. It's a sick sick thing but no one and I mean NO ONE in this house should ever ask me where their charger cord is for fear of instant death.
|Caution - If you have CDO refrain from staring at this photo. |
Could cause serious side effects including nail biting and uncontrollable urge to clean all things.
Yesterday I spent two hours removing everything from our small storage closet near the kitchen. It houses a mishmash of things, mostly health and beauty related including personal travel bags since we often do spur of the moment travel. I sorted, cross sorted, tossed, stacked, re-stacked, stacked again...it was exhausting. Now we have order. My order. Order that makes sense.
I just realized I never touched the very bottom shelf. I am screwed.
Must start again. Must clean all things.