Tuesday, July 12, 2011

I've been neglecting

Yes, it's true. I've been neglecting my blog. Super busy, relative uninspired to write about things that will be completely public, and, if I'm honest, a tad bit of laziness. Mostly the latter two, though.

So why do I write now?

Well... I realized that I might have a mild case of OCD. Those of you who know me well are probably cracking up right now thinking to yourself (or possibly out loud to your computer screen or iPhone), "YOU JUST REALIZED THIS NOW???" Let me explain myself.

First of all, no... I always knew this. But I didn't realize the extent. I know I'm anal about organization and cleanliness, etc.  Here's the dealio. I just might need therapy.

My spousal unit bought a house. I mean to say, WE bought a house. Another house. That's two houses. One in Oregon. One in Colorado. Two. Who knew? I was in Vegas sitting at a slot machine with my buddy Michelle from Oregon (man, I love that girl) when I got a text from the spousal unit that said, "We bought a house!"

No, I had not seen it. But, delightfully, because he knows me SO WELL, I trust him to make such decisions without me. And he exercised this freedom of choice. (By the way, he did very well. So, I really am not being sarcastic.)

In his excitement over moving out of our tiny little upper condo, he and his brother decided to pack a few things.

I came home to not the usual cramped living/dining/kitchen area scattered with toys, blankets, pillows, crumbs and crumpled up paper. No. I came home to a showroom. Most anything that could be seen with the naked eye was packed. It looked awesome.

And then I went into the master to change (because I made a mad dash from my car to the front door during a monsoon, which... if you know anything about the monsoon season in the mountains... needs absolutely no explanation whatsoever). The bedroom was spotless. And so was the bathroom.

And then it hit me. My. Stuff. Was. Touched.

My. Stuff. Was. Moved.

Some. Of. My. Stuff. Was. Packed.

Anxiety.  And a lot of it.

It was then that I realized I needed help.

So I asked my spousal unit to pour me a drink.

And all is better.

YAY! We're moving! (Well... maybe. We have our inspection today. We'll see.)