Monday, July 10, 2006
OCD and My Sister, The Saint
Miss you bloglanders, that means you Arwen (okay, I suppose I miss all of you), but I won't be back until the house is on the market and everything is clean.
I love clean, but my attempts to become obsessive compulsive about it have met with failure time-after-time. I like the after-prep time when the house has to stay ready to show because I can pretend that I have actually succeeded in reaching the pinnacle of my ambition as an OCD wannabe for a few weeks, but I know that it can't last forever. Eventually, I'll have another couple of hundred books on my bedroom floor (yes, it has happened) and laundry forming a boarder for my room (as it is now) and twenty-or-so empty water and Gatorade bottles, boasting of my drinking abilities (really, I never drink alcohol, I can barely down communion if they leave the grape juice too long, but I can put away 20 or Dr. Peppers or iced-teas at a restaurant, and, at TGI Fridays, they give me a pitcher of iced tea and a straw and I drink two or three)
On a side note (earmuffs Gina): working in the house this week has taught me that my earlier impressions were correct: as great as my brother-in-law is, and he is very awesome most of the time, he is an immature selfish jerk to my sister any time he wants his own way, hates what he is doing, or wants to be funny. Don't get me wrong, I am too, I just don't want my way that badly at least once a day, I try to be alone when I hate what I'm doing, and I don't normally try to be funny by annoying people with whom I am living. Beyond which, I am in the same boat as most people: I'm used to my own stupidity (though I do have intense feelings of shame afterward) so I don't notice as much when I am a jerk, until afterward, then I talk to myself for a day or two, 'you're an ID-iot!' 'Gee, I'm a jerk!' 'I can't believe I said that!' Basically the same things I say after a date.
Where I come from, when someone asks you to stop doing something that annoys you, you stop at least nine out of ten times, the tenth time is used for humor, but any more than one out of ten is being a jerk, and ten-out-of-ten makes you pest of the year, and if it leaves bruises, even unintentional bruises, you don't ever do it again. So, raise your pitchers of DP here's to Gina, my sister and Patron Saint of Tolerant Women.
I love clean, but my attempts to become obsessive compulsive about it have met with failure time-after-time. I like the after-prep time when the house has to stay ready to show because I can pretend that I have actually succeeded in reaching the pinnacle of my ambition as an OCD wannabe for a few weeks, but I know that it can't last forever. Eventually, I'll have another couple of hundred books on my bedroom floor (yes, it has happened) and laundry forming a boarder for my room (as it is now) and twenty-or-so empty water and Gatorade bottles, boasting of my drinking abilities (really, I never drink alcohol, I can barely down communion if they leave the grape juice too long, but I can put away 20 or Dr. Peppers or iced-teas at a restaurant, and, at TGI Fridays, they give me a pitcher of iced tea and a straw and I drink two or three)
On a side note (earmuffs Gina): working in the house this week has taught me that my earlier impressions were correct: as great as my brother-in-law is, and he is very awesome most of the time, he is an immature selfish jerk to my sister any time he wants his own way, hates what he is doing, or wants to be funny. Don't get me wrong, I am too, I just don't want my way that badly at least once a day, I try to be alone when I hate what I'm doing, and I don't normally try to be funny by annoying people with whom I am living. Beyond which, I am in the same boat as most people: I'm used to my own stupidity (though I do have intense feelings of shame afterward) so I don't notice as much when I am a jerk, until afterward, then I talk to myself for a day or two, 'you're an ID-iot!' 'Gee, I'm a jerk!' 'I can't believe I said that!' Basically the same things I say after a date.
Where I come from, when someone asks you to stop doing something that annoys you, you stop at least nine out of ten times, the tenth time is used for humor, but any more than one out of ten is being a jerk, and ten-out-of-ten makes you pest of the year, and if it leaves bruises, even unintentional bruises, you don't ever do it again. So, raise your pitchers of DP here's to Gina, my sister and Patron Saint of Tolerant Women.
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♥ thanks Ty! I think your OCD tendencies may be looking in the wrong spot. 3 pitchers of Iced Tea? some people would consider that a problem. Time for an intervention. Ty: I think you might be a Teaholic. Time for help.
Have you as of yet spoken to your binlaw? Sounds pretty serious. Good luck. Selfcentered people suck
Don't worry, Ryan. It's not serious, just annoying. About 97% of the time he's the sweetest, greatest hubby ever. But his mother spoiled him, then the Air Force encouraged certain irritating habits, so once in a while, he gets carried away. And one of these days I'm going to give him the hot foot for putting his feet on me. (I have foot issues and he does it to annoy me. It works.)
As for the bruise, I'm pretty sure I did that while trying to move a mattress that was too big for a bunk at camp. (I know that sounds like an "I ran into the door" story, but if you've read my Klutzy McGee post, it will come as no surprise.) Steve grabs my leg or my arm (usually when we're in the car) as a sign of affection, and if he's wound up/excited about something. Sometimes he squeezes too hard--but not hard enough to leave a bruise. Don't worry, I'm not a battered wife. If I was being battered, a certain husband of mine would be being dead.
As for the bruise, I'm pretty sure I did that while trying to move a mattress that was too big for a bunk at camp. (I know that sounds like an "I ran into the door" story, but if you've read my Klutzy McGee post, it will come as no surprise.) Steve grabs my leg or my arm (usually when we're in the car) as a sign of affection, and if he's wound up/excited about something. Sometimes he squeezes too hard--but not hard enough to leave a bruise. Don't worry, I'm not a battered wife. If I was being battered, a certain husband of mine would be being dead.
And Ty, I know you just wrote this so you'd have a chance to bust out the "earmuffs" reference.
And so you could get avoid scrubbing the toilets.
And so you could get avoid scrubbing the toilets.
EMPTY toilets hold no fear for me, I even scrub them without being asked. Cleaning the refridgarator, which smells worse than the aforementioned fixture, however, does send me looking for a better use for my time.
Thanks dody, but I'm denying that I am back until tomorrow afternoon, or thereabouts.
Arwen, actually, I usually drink less when I drink from a pitcher, three pitchers is really only 12 glasses at the most, and I often go over the dozen mark (esp. at the Outback, where our usual waiter brings the teas six at a time).
Arwen, actually, I usually drink less when I drink from a pitcher, three pitchers is really only 12 glasses at the most, and I often go over the dozen mark (esp. at the Outback, where our usual waiter brings the teas six at a time).
you know what? some people think my mister is "abusive" because of things that don't bug me at all. itn't perspective amazing?
i am in no way implying that gina and i are abused but accept it, not at all. i just know that things that don't bother me in the slightest make my sister and my friend FLEE my house.
that is why janni (the sister) chose her husband and i chose mine. i can take it, she can't.
i also think that the sibs (janni laine and ty) are more intune to these things because of how desperately/ferociously/deeply they love us. if byron looks at janni sideways i want to call him a jerk.
it's just the way it is.
so yay for ty for loving his sister that much and for admitting he can dig his brother in law and still see his faults, too.
i am in no way implying that gina and i are abused but accept it, not at all. i just know that things that don't bother me in the slightest make my sister and my friend FLEE my house.
that is why janni (the sister) chose her husband and i chose mine. i can take it, she can't.
i also think that the sibs (janni laine and ty) are more intune to these things because of how desperately/ferociously/deeply they love us. if byron looks at janni sideways i want to call him a jerk.
it's just the way it is.
so yay for ty for loving his sister that much and for admitting he can dig his brother in law and still see his faults, too.
That was both insightful and dead-on, Miss Becky. I suppose I have a high tolerance for annoying behavior. And guess who forced me to build up that tolerance in my youth? My little brother! And he knows it!
I swear it was Tweenage Ty's purpose in life to irritate me until I attempted some heinous act of violence on his person. So if he can spend that many years doing nothing but annoying me on purpose, and I can still consider him my bestest friend and the bestest brother ever, then I suppose I'm almost immune to the lesser degree of annoying-ness I get from the mister.
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I swear it was Tweenage Ty's purpose in life to irritate me until I attempted some heinous act of violence on his person. So if he can spend that many years doing nothing but annoying me on purpose, and I can still consider him my bestest friend and the bestest brother ever, then I suppose I'm almost immune to the lesser degree of annoying-ness I get from the mister.
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