Monday, April 05, 2010
My body is a wonderland - well my brain is anyway.
What I've been doing, before I decided I'd better sit down and pour the nut juice (that sounded dirty) into words on my computer screen, is cleaning. That may not sound crazy to you, probably because you're NOT crazy. When the OCD Chick is cleaning though, especially when I am in straight up whackadoo mode is really not cleaning at all. It's more like bothering.
I take the Clorox Wipes and I bother things. I bother the light switches roughly 87,000 times because light switches are where little black devils of germy evilness like to lurk.
I bother the door handles somewhere around 107,000 times because I am positive everything from fecal matter to sperm to tiny bits of Ann Coulter DNA cover them. You know why, right? Because people do not wash their hands properly, that's why. They do things nobody talks about and then they touch the door handles. I'm convinced that in my domicile, my family is doing these things nobody wants to talk about and then walking through the house randomly touching doorknobs and laughing maniacally.
It's how they pay me back for burning everything I ever try to cook.
Although by now I've made my hands sting from the Clorox, I feel sure I am still sitting in a virtual boiling pot of grossness, and since I can't get the Clorox to take me to the clean feeling I need, I start taking out my frustration in other ways.
"Remember that one time when I took you to the Vet and you came home without your balls? Well, I lied. I really DID pay him to do that to you."
I can't get settled today and as a result, I'm on a rampage of crazy. If Mr. Man and Dog return to this house today and find me in any state other than catatonic, they should be pleased. In other news, if Mr. Man and Dog return to this house today and do not immediately head to the bathroom to wash Ann Coulter off their hands, I'm gonna boil them.
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