Having OCD is Still Not Much Fun

 Dear friends and confidants, do you recall the tale I told of my infatuation with IKEA, and the amazing calm I experience there, surrounded by rows and rows of carefully laid out china and cutlery; the peace and tranquillity I experience when surrounded by that order, that harmony?  Do you also recall my obsession with symmetry; not only in shape, and structure, but also in number?  Do you recall how I transferred my love of these to my home; or conversely, found my other home behind the portals of that Temple to Order and Balance and Harmony?

Do you also recall how I transgressed and told a lie to make up a deficiency in numbers when I discovered that I was short of one Dragon Bread and Butter Knife?  How I, perverse soul that I am, lied and was punished, when the god of order decreed that my lie would turn upon me and, as the serpent, bite me where the wound would hurt most; sink its fangs into me sense of balance and equilibrium.

And my lie, dear friends, came back to haunt me and near drove the reason from my brain.

Listen well, and hear how the gods punish those who practise to deceive.

 

When I returned to my humble home, did I step lightly thorough my door, with one Dragon Bread and Butter Knife in my hand, to complete my set?  No!  I held in my craven grasp, two Dragon Bread and Butter Knives.  Whereas all the others in the drawer, with the exception of those that should come in pairs, were lying side by harmonious side, in groups of twelve, the Bread and Butter Knives lay in a section in a group of thirteen; a baker’s dozen without the excuse of being bread.

But craven wretch that I am, I shuddered at the sight; yet did not seek to repair my guilt.  I near revelled in my dilemma.

As I have already stated: Listen well, and hear how the gods punish those who practise to deceive.

My tale unfolds with all the depth, drama and scope of a Greek Tragedy.

 

Some weeks or months later, I cannot remember, it is a blur, I once again attended IKEA with a friend, Allan.

We had gone to simply look around, and while we were there, we decided to have lunch.  I think we had fish and chips and coffee (FREE and as many cups as one wants with an IKEA Family Card; Monday to Friday). 

While I was paying, Allan went to get the cutlery, napkins, salt and pepper, and water, and we met at a table he had chosen.

Do you see where this is going?  My heart is palpitating as I write this.

There before me (and him) were two brand new Dragon Dinner Knives and a pair of forks; characterless forks. 

But the knives:  They were unmarked.  They were spotlessly clean.  They were absolutely brand new.  They were lovely.

“They’ve obviously just put a new lot in the cutlery trays,” said Allan, “Do you want your coffee now, or after you’ve eaten?”

It was just like being at home.  It made my fish and chips taste just that extra bit special.

We ate.  We finished our meal.  We continued shopping.  We paid for our purchases.  We went home.

 

When we arrived at home, I was putting the kettle on for a coffee and Allan smiled at me in a very strange way.

“Surprise!” he said.

I looked at him and wondered what he meant.

“Surprise!” he repeated, and I turned towards him; meanwhile opening the cutlery draw to take out a teaspoon to ladle the coffee into the two White, 365 Range Coffee Mugs on the counter.

Suddenly my heart sank, and I had to hold onto the counter lest I collapse at what I knew I would see before me.  There, in the cutlery draw with the other twelve Dragon Dinner Knives were five extra Dragon Dinner Knives.  I didn’t need to count them.  I couldn’t even tell which were the strangers.  There were now seventeen Dragon Dinner Knives.  With a weary heart I took them all out and counted them. Yes, there were seventeen.

Allan smiled, “They’ll never miss them” he said, “IKEA has millions”.

I counted them yet again. Yes there were still seventeen.  I put them back into the drawer.  Then I took them out and counted them again; just in case I had miscounted.  No, I hadn’t; there were seventeen.  Then I took them all out and counted them as I put them, one by one into the dishwasher.  Yes!  there were seventeen of them.

“Would you mind making the coffee,” I said.  “I’m feeling just a little tired”.

 

A cautionary tale.  Take heed.

You have listened well, and heard how the gods punish those who practise to deceive

1. Have you read the first hub Having OCD Is Not Always Fun on this debilitating condition? Well, have you?

If you haven't, I suggest you go to it straight away. There's no point in starting half way... especially if you have OCD. You don't need to be told that, do you?

Well, go on. Don't waste your time.

2. This is the second hub, so I am assuming that you have progressed to here from the first... if not, you certainly aren't suffering from OCD, you are more lkely to be completely disorientated. Regardless, this is the second hub Having OCD is Still Not Much Fun on this debilitating condition?

Now you are almost finished, but there is no point in getting off your metaphorical horse mid-metaphorical-stream, now is there? You are almost cured… or you should be.

Go on, read, Having OCD is Still Not Much Fun again.. It won’t take long, and you won’t regret it.

3. The next hub is very reassuring and it’s well worth a read. Have a good look at it and see what you think, at: OCD May be Debilitating But Is There a Cure?

4. If you have got this far, you are almost finished. Are you sitting comfortably, or would you like to go and have a coffee and a sticky bun? And perhaps spend about ten minutes trying to decide which spoon to use and what cup to use, in case it feels as if it is being left out. I know how this feels. I start to make a coffee and when I open the cupboard door, there are eighteen identical coffee mugs looking at me; begging to be turned so that their handles are all 45 degrees to the left.

When you get back here, have a look at OCD - A Case History – Self Help in Extreme Cases the fourth and final hub.