OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE

BLUEBERRIES

There's something kinda wonderful about OCD. One of us has it here and it isn't me and it isn't Woof.   My suggestion that he check and see if the blueberries were about ready to be pickedresulted in a harvest of about ten million berries.  It reminded me of the afternoon at the cottage when he borrowed a power washer to clean the cement deck. About eight hours later he had cleaned not only the deck, but the cement walls, the outdoor furniture, the landing, and I swear a little part of the neighbor's rock garden. Give him a vacuum cleaner and he'll really go to town...out the kitchen door...down the steps, out the sidewalk, back to the porch, a quick once over...until either the belt breaks or I run out with the hedge clippers threatening to cut the electric cord.

He is just recently recovered from a fringe phase. He found an old glue gun and an insane woman who runs an old upholstery shop on a back alley in Erie, and he began adding fringe trim to every lampshade, nightlight, and ceiling fixture in the house...then he started on the cottage. When I suggested that he was creating a bit of a Miss Havisham atmosphere he finally relented.

He is no longer permitted to "trim" any living plant in the area. Before I learned of the severity of his condition I asked him if he'd trim back the Holly and the Lilac bushes. Twenty minutes later they had all but vanished, save for a few small stumps...the poor devil just can't help himself.

As I'm writing this a few other tidbits have bubbled up for me...like the dentist telling him that he was wearing the enamel off of his teeth...or how many times a normal person could watch " It's a Wonderful Life" ....or listen to Wayne Newton sing " Danke Schoen". ( That's really how you spell that? ). Everytime I'm on line he'll suggest I look up Steve and Edie Gorme, to see when they're performing...which they never are...and never do anymore. We used to take turns picking a concert to attend at the end of the summer, and when it was my turn I forced him to sit through the Verdi Requiem ( not for the feint hearted ), so the next year he picked good old has been Wayne Newton. Half way through the evening the older gentleman sitting behind us said " He stinks".

Now I'm not complaining....just gaze upon the blueberries in the message to follow and imagine the wonderful pies and muffins and pancakes to come. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder can sometimes be a wonderful gift....or just the thing to drive the rest of the world stark raving mad.
  MY SINCERE APOLOGIES FOR NO PICTURE HERE...ALTHOUGH I AM A PERFECTLY ORDINARY PERSON WITH NO UNUSUAL DIMENSIONS TO MY PERSONALITY, I WAS DISTRACTED BY A PANTING DOG, AND AN APPOINTMENT TO PICK UP AN ARC OF THE COVENANT AND A KNEELER.