I admit that I have a variety of peculiarities and quirks, not the least of which is a mild OCD. It’s usually not a problem and results in good-natured ribbing from friends who will nudge the fork and knife on my napkin at the diner, if only to see how long I can go without fixing them. Or push books on bookshelves, or give me a look when I start straightening books in the store. Or it means that I have sudden compulsions (that would be the “C” part of the disorder) to organize everything on my desk at work since I feel absolutely out of control if the papers and magazines and folders and books aren’t in neat piles at right angles to each other.

Again, not normally an issue that gets in the way of my functioning. It just makes me really neat and tidy in fits.

HOWEVER, the effects on my innate sense of order and logic sometimes make it hard for me to accept when a project isn’t going “just so” - and this only ever really happens at home. I get really grumpy and angry because if only they (being my kin) would do things the way I suggested, and accepted that it was the best and most efficient way to do them, we’d be so much better off. If I had a dollar for each time my methods ended up being the “right way” to do something and a family member said, “OK, you were right…” or smiled sheepishly in defeat and admission… well, I’d still be in debt, but much less than I am.

Things around here are all left for the last-minute; my brother and I literally threw the lights up on the Christmas tree tonight since we were sick of it standing in the middle of the living room, 16 feet tall and naked. Instead, it’s now 16 feet tall and strung with LED lights (they use much less energy than regular incandescent lights).

I’ve also been given some cash to go buy myself a watch tomorrow; then I will turn around and give it to my father so he can wrap it and put it under the tree for me. Since he doesn’t know what to get me. Such is the way. I think I’m an incredibly easy person to shop for. If you searched my blog for the phrase “I want…” you’d come up with tons of shopping ideas and not one wish for world peace (though I want that, too…)

My little brother asked me again what I want for Christmas and I told him I wanted a gift certificate to Sephora since I need some new perfume; his response, “I really don’t want to go Sephora. Is Target OK?”

Yes, Target is always OK, but it’s entertaining to see just how frightening the black and white shellacked glossiness of a Sephora store can frighten a heterosexual male. Especially during this time of year.

About 30 minutes ago, my sister announced that she likes crossword puzzles and that she wishes to receive some for Christmas. Since I am also a crossword puzzle aficionado, I’ll take it upon myself to get some for her. So, I’ve got a ton of shit to accomplish tomorrow morning (purchase crossword puzzle books and watch) before 11:30, at which point I have to head out to meet my friend Theresa for lunch, which then gets me back home by 1:30 or so, to help my sister put ornaments on the tree (she just called and booked me for that time) and then go to occupational therapy at 5:30. I’ll get home by 7pm and… uh… eat something… and eventually get to bed and go to work on Friday and then it’s basically Christmas.

In other breaking news:
• Today, my new co-worker (who used to be a forensic anthropologist and assistant medical examiner who, yes, performed autopsies) commented that she’d like to pick my brain next week. I just think it’s incredibly funny for someone who wrote her master’s thesis on skulls to say she wants to pick someone’s brain. Some might say creepy; I say hilarious.
• Also today, I received a Christmas card from a friend I haven’t heard from in almost three years. I’m going to write her a letter since the drifting apart happened in a somewhat bumpy fashion with job changes and relocations and falling out of touch.
• I’ve taken to calling the elastic compression stocking on my wrist my Very Sexy (as in Victoria’s Secret) Elastic Compression Stocking. You know, with my nails all painted up, it’s mildly sexy… if you’re into bondage. Perhaps. There will be no photo just in case.

I’m off to do round five of my therapy exercises for my wrist. Then I can call it a night. While I can sleep in a little, I can’t sleep past 8:30 since I need to get my ass in gear. At least I can sleep in this weekend.

Every other holiday requires my attention from the early morning hours onward, cooking and preparing - except Christmas. It’s my mother’s bailiwick. I help with Easter, I handle Thanksgiving; she gets Christmas and all the delights that four kinds of herring dishes, salmon, trout, and mushroom soup can provide. I just eat the pierogi and keep my mouth shut.