Doing a little Facebook stalking perusing a while ago, I saw someone’s bumper sticker that read:
After laughing, I thought, Oh my god, that’s me! And it was not a comforting thought. I thought back to instances ranging from any time from my childhood to the previous day and realized that I, without a doubt, have CDO.
Let me ‘splain. No, there is too much, let me sum up.*
1. When I was a kid, we always had placemats on the table. ‘Cause kids are messy. I wouldn’t start my meal until my plate or bowl was in the *exact* center of the placemat. And the utensils were evenly spaced on either side. (Mini-confession: I still need perfect placement and even spacing when I set the table for holidays.)
2. Until I was about nine years old, my hair was so long that I could sit on it. This meant that my mom was responsible for fashioning it in any number of braid or ponytail styles. BUT (and I’m surprised she didn’t kill me) if I felt that the braid or ponytail was off center (or, if pigtails were uneven), I would take it out and make her start all over again. (Refer back to #1 and realize that I had very exact notions of where the center was – which resulted in, usually, no less than five attempts each hair-styling.)
Now that I think about it, I don’t know why she didn’t make me get my hair cut. When I got it all chopped off, it was all my idea.
3. A slightly different example: I was helping my mom arrange the hors d’oeuvres before Thanksgiving dinner, and she had three different colors of cauliflower to set out with the dip – orange, purple, and white. She asked me to mix the colors in one side of the serving basket, thinking it was a simple task. Oh no. I didn’t want any one color to be over represented or stand out too much. (i.e. Even if I had the same number of each color, but put white on the bottom, then orange or purple would be uber prominent.) So I took little handfuls of each color over and over again – white, orange, purple; white, orange, purple – so that they’d be evenly mixed. My mother watched me, shaking her head, and wondering (out loud) where she’d gone wrong.
4. Finally, every day at work I take a handful (or five) of peanut M&Ms from their dish by the printer. When I get back to my desk, I separate them by color, and then proceed to eat one color at a time.
Seriously, if this isn’t a cry for help, I don’t know what is.
*You know what this is from. Think about it…
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