OCD

As Ben's aunt Wanita said to me at the last family reunion "I've got a touch of the_____________" (you can fill in the blank with any physical ailment). Last night I realized I've got a touch of the OCD.

Surely there were warning signs along the way. For instance, the way I make my bed (it's a rigorous process) or the 'proper' way to fold towels (1/2 lengthwise, 1/2 again, then in thirds) but Mr. Johnson is much too loving and tolerant to tell me I'm a crazy person. Last night down on my hands and knees at 10:00 in between commercial breaks I am scrubbing the floor with a bleach solution. Why? you ask. Did Bruce vomit up animal excrement? Kids running though with soiled shoes? Had it been 3 weeks since I washed the floor? No.
No.
and
No....only 1 day.

We had people over for dinner. Yes, it's quite shocking.

It's not the people that get me, it's more of a quota thing. You see, my mind must have a mental counter every time the door opens and shuts. Once a certain number of door opening triggers an intense need to locate bleach, Mrs. Myers geranium scented cleanser (it makes me feel better about using bleach) and a rag to do an through washing.

In my nightmares I dream of dirty socks from unwashed floors, crumbs on the floor, and dog hair. (I'm not being funny....it's really quite true) I won't shock you with the number of times I vacuum a day....  hint: the vacuum never gets put away.

When do I know I should seek medical assistance because the OCD has gone too far? When I don't want to have people over for dinner any longer....

 I have a few good months left....tops.