OCD

People are funny. You remember the girl who comes to my house on weekends and organizes the coathangers? You know, the one that sleeps with my son? Well, my newfangled Droid is having some issues, so yesterday I borrowed her old cell phone and with a little technical wizardry (I had to call the Verizon help desk) switched the device over so that it now thinks it’s a Droid, at least for a little while.

But that’s not the funny part.

What’s funny is the way this girl manages her electronic accessories. Look at all the knots in the cord – four of them! You would think that someone so obsessive that she is unable to enter a closet without putting the red hangers next to the red ones, the blue next to the blue, and then sorting the whole mess so that it runs from dark to light, left to right – well, you’d think someone like this would simply get ill at the thought of all those knots in the phone cord.

I know I do. I imagine she’s one of those people who lets the cord on her office phone get all twisted up, so that you have to unplug one end and let the other end hang free while it spins around and around and around until it’s free of knots and neatly coiled up again. I hate that. At work, it seems like every time I walk past someone’s desk, I have to reach over and fix their damn phone cord. And then they give me attitude for the favor! It drives me crazy.

Obsessive people drive me nuts.

P.S. Thanks for the phone, Cassie.