Whoever has OCD raise your hand…
Not that high.
A little lower.
Now straighten your arm.
More to the left.
No. Not like that.
Lock your elbow.
No. No. No!
Here… let me…
On the One Hand:
Yeah. I’m a bit crazed like that. Only about a few things though. Last night we picked up some medicine refills. My wife poured the remaining pills from the old bottle into the new. Then she took the cap from the old bottle and twisted it on top of the new one.
That set my right eyebrow a twitter and teeth grinding.
My wife laughed as I told her how hard I bit my tongue and let her finish before saying anything. For some unknown reason, in the labyrinthine twists and turns of my nut job thinky muscle, the bottle the cap comes from, is the bottle where it must be returned. It sticks in my craw.
On the Other Hand:
After dinner I decided to gain some Bonus Husband Points and dive into the chore, typically doled out to the younger minion, of loading the dishwasher. After making sure to rinse everything of excess foodstuffs, I stacked the plates in individual slots ready for their hot, refreshing, lemony scented bath. I grabbed handfuls of random silverware stuffing them into plastic door slots ready and waiting to hold them in place. Knives, forks and spoons all tucked in nicely together. Let it never be said that I am a utensillist!
Payback is a spoon best served unwashed.
My way of loading the dishwasher is apparently…how shall I put this…wrong. The next half hour was spent receiving a lesson from the missus in proper loading of this confounded machine. I was instructed to take notes. Pen and paper were placed in my hands. There will indeed be a test. I don’t know when it will come. Maybe tonight…maybe next week.
I really need an A on this one. Summer school would really suck.