MY MONK MOMENT

How many of you have heard of the show Monk? It is an amusing drama on USA Network about a former detective who has these totally absurd OCD tendencies. Some of you know, or have heard me speak of my OCD issues in the past. It is something I deal with daily. I can honestly say it is no longer as bad as it use to be though.

Years ago, I had to hang my clothes on a hanger that was the same color as the shirt. All shirts had to face the same way in the closet. The closet was also organized in rainbow color order. Then each color "section" was sorted in order from sleeveless to short sleeve to 3/4-sleeve to long sleeve. I know.... I had some major issues.

I would also freak out if someone moved a knick-knack or accessory. Everything had a place and I could tell if it had been moved an inch. Then I would spend way to much time making sure every object was in the right place all over the house.

I was not able to drink after another person either. I would choke to death before I would sip from a cup that someone else was using. I was a big time germ-a-phobic wacko. I couldn't even swap spit with my own family. However, kissing didn't bother me. Go figure that one out!

My food was not allowed to touch either. I had to eat all of item from my plate before moving on to the next. I could never get casseroles. Everything touches in a casserole! My mother was one of those people who mixed everything into her mashed potatoes and gravy. Peas, corn, meats. She would mix it all up when preparing her plate. It was this whole layered entree thing. I think she just did it to aggravate me really.

My big-time OCD episodes are few and far between now. I still have my little goofy quirks, but I don't have issues that interfere with my day to day life and living. The things I deal with now are manageable and acceptable. However, I did have a major meltdown over the weekend.

We were cleaning out the last of our stuff from the storage building we rented during our move. Sometime between moving a few bins, a shelf, and a cedar chest I picked up a foreign object. I'm not sure where it came from actually. All I know is that I looked down to see some dark blob hanging from my finger. It seemed to have a moist, sticky consistency. I saw it and freaked. I'm sure I looked like a cat dropped in a cage full of Rottweilers. I shook my hand, but it wasn't coming off. That thing was stuck to my finger like white on rice! I looked around for something I could use to wipe it off. Nothing. I couldn't bring myself to wipe it on my shorts or shirt either. By this time, I think I'm starting to hyperventilate and Daddy has realized something is wrong. The next part is a bit of a blur, but I think he either wiped it off or I wiped it on him. Yet, the problem is still there. I know it was on my finger. I know it touched my skin. I have no idea what "IT" is and what type of bacteria, germs, or disgusting matter is now on my skin. I have actually freaked and started crying at this point. I'm asking for a bottle of water or hand sanitizer. Anything I can use to clean my finger. Daddy is digging through his truck for sanitizer as I find a bin that had a wet wipe inside. Oh, bless you wet wipe.... bless you! I spend the next ten minutes cleaning every finger, between the fingers, and even under my nails on both hands.

Definitely not one of my best moments for sure. I think that Adrian Monk has me beat by a long shot. I am not obsessively calling for a wet wipe every time I touch something. However, just thinking about what was on my finger still gives me the heebie-jeebies.