The Extent of my Crazy
I was once told that I need to seek professional help. I would always joke about being obsessive compulsive, mainly due to the fact that I cannot stand odd numbers. When it comes to things like volume on a TV or in a car it has to be even or it will drive me mad. The reasoning is because I like things to be paired up; if it is set at six then I have three sets of two. If say something was set at seven it would be three sets of two with one left over, which isn’t fair to that one left over, call me romantic…or just plain crazy. That’s just one example of many when it comes to the weird ways I think about things. Because of this I decided it would be interesting to actually take a test to see if I was actually OCD. Zero to seven meant it wasn’t likely, eight to eleven is probable, and twelve and up is likely. I scored a twenty-five and I was told “To seek a professional diagnosis from a trained mental health professional.” This is something I never did because I have gotten this far in life so it doesn’t really matter. What will it hurt if I’m weird about numbers? This morning I decided to go shopping and there was a case of beer cans I decided to take in while I was going there, I had sixteen in all. Once I got there I literally spent a minute deciding if I should put the single case in a shopping cart. My thought process was which is weirder, to carry it, or to put so little in a cart. On one hand if I carried it I would feel like a hillbilly, on the other if I put it in a cart I would look like a nutcase. I chose nutcase, the cart was one of those half carts anyways. I made myself feel better by saying its ok because now it’s one less cart the employees need to bring in. I never thought that my weird thought process would affect my life. But as I started to think about it I started to wonder how many minutes have I wasted, and how many will I waste?