Are you OCD when it comes to Your Home?
When most people think of OCD they think of compulsive hand washing and checking the stove 100 times before they leave the house but I feel like everyone is a little bit OCD about something.
For me, it’s largely about how my house has to look. I have a literal routine that I stick to every single morning before I leave the house and if everything doesn’t get done on my imaginary list I feel NQR for the rest of the day. A little edgy, a little twitchy, a little unhappy.
I start in my ensuite picking up dirty washing and giving the benchtop a quick wipe, then I grab any other clothes on the floor from the bedroom and toss it into the lounge room before making the bed. Done.
Then I straighten the cushions on the couch, put everything back in its’ place and take the washing to the laundry and put on a load. (My dog is so used to this morning routine that she literally waits for the second I walk down the hallway with the clothes to follow me so she can get her chew stick at the same time).
Then I tidy up the kitchen. The kitchen table must be centred exactly under the hanging chandelier, the chairs have to be pushed in at equal distance and perfectly straight. Done.
Then it’s the same deal in the family room straightening up with the cushions. The remote has to be back in the drawer, and everything in its place. Done.
Various items belonging to my husband found during the whole process (keys, sunglasses, reading glasses, coins, random bits of paperwork) left lying around are returned to their place of origin. Done.
Finally I grab the vacuum and at the very least go over my carpet in the lounge room because it’s chocolate brown and every little crumb or tiny leaf shows up like LED lights. And then I am at peace with the world free to get on with the rest of my tasks.
It’s not quite the same when it comes to actual cleaning. Stuff like dusting, scrubbing bathrooms, windows and ovens is always on the ‘to-do’ list but it’s not as big a priority for me as the house being clutter free.
Then…my husband gets home. He tosses his workbag on the floor of the lounge room, his shoes are kicked off at the door and he heads straight to the kitchen to deposit detritus from his pockets onto the kitchen bench. It’s usually straight to the fridge for a snack and every fucking thing from the knife he uses to butter his bread to the plate, to the butter, to the vegemite or whatever else is left sitting out. And the chair he sits on at the kitchen table? He can NOT push it back in. After that he heads to the couch for a bit of TV and the cushions go askew, the remote gets tossed somewhere random and he decides to change into his gym gear. Off goes the work clothes onto the floor (could be anywhere between the lounge room to the ensuite they fall OR they get draped somewhere “to be worn again, NEVER”). He fills up a drink container, grabs his gym bag and leaves me to wander around muttering under my breath while I put away everything he just got out.
Cue him coming home an hour or so later, another pair of shoes is kicked off at the door, the gym bag is discarded onto a chair, spilling out sweaty towels and drink bottles and the whole thing starts all over again.
I have done everything conceivable in my brain to try and teach him to put his shit away. At least twice a year I organise his wardrobe and line all his shoes up on shoe racks we bought, hang all his t-shirts together (by colour) next to all his hoodies, next to all his singlets, next to all his good shirts, next to his golf shirts. The drawers are all sorted into logical order: gym gear, sports gear, casual shorts, socks, jocks, work pants, good jeans. He’s got a leather case for storing watches, a holder for sunglasses and reading glasses and shelves for all his random items like head phones, iPods, belts etc. He can NOT put anything back ever. If he attempts to put shoes away, they get tossed onto the floor nowhere near the shoe rack. The closest he can come to putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher is in the sink NEXT to the dishwasher and he is incapable of wiping up the crumbs on the bench top. And why, why, WHY does he use MY white towel to dry his just-washed-greasy-been-fixing-trucks-all-day hands on?
I love him to death but I don’t know how I stand it. I have asked, pleaded and fully lost my shit at him all to no avail. He doesn’t see what the problem is.
So I ask you people; do you think I actually have OCD about my house or is he just a useless slob?