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My Profile
Because I can't bear to eulogize Doug - 2008-08-19
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9:33 a.m. - 2004-05-26
I have never been diagnosed with OCD. I don’t think my few compulsions qualify and I am certainly not making light of something which puts some serious dings in the way some people function. But, yesterday was a prime example of my problem with my worst obsession/compulsion. I have a bad bad case of ‘Just one more.’ Just one more gets me into all sorts of trouble. It was ‘just one more’ cinnamon roll, just one more fistful of Cheetos, just one more hot dog that pushed my weight up and up and up until I was the size of a Death Star. It’s ‘just one more chapter’ and next thing I know it’s 4:00am and my eyeballs are hanging out on stalks from reading all night. ‘Just one more row’ until I run out of yarn or my exhausted fingers can’t hold the crochet hook anymore. So it goes. That damn ‘just one more’ bunges up all sorts of things. Yesterday was beautiful. Mid-70’s, the sun was bright but not punishing, a nice breeze, altogether a gorgeous day. I went out to muck around in my garden. Do some weeding. Set some more plants. Maybe start cleaning out the bed in front of the porch. Right. Since I wasn’t passing out from the heat, my ‘just one more’ kicked in. I hoed, trimmed, dethatched, spaded, ripped up two wheelbarrows’ worth of weeds and grass, coaxed vines up trellises, bundled daffodil leaves, dead-headed the window box plants, set the broccoli and the rest of the peppers, staked the peonies, prepped holes for the new rose bushes…oy. I feel like roadkill this morning. Mike and Alex were stunned when they got home. When they left the peony patch was waist high with hen grass and sloppy with fading spring bulb foliage. The pachysandra along the front walk was similarly buried under the bulb flower wilt, and the lowest tier in the raised beds was empty save for one lone geranium. The bed in front of the porch was a brambly grassy weed choked mess with a hole like a bomb crater in the middle from where Mike had pulled out that nasty pricker bush. Not any more. I knew I was setting myself up for serious pain and possibly triggering a major flare, but I was in a fever of ‘just one more’ and kept going like a bucolic Energizer Bunny. After Wolf got off the bus I let him ‘help’ and as a reward for his ‘help’ he got to play with the hose. Now the best part of playing with the hose is squirting someone else, so I put my hat and glasses inside and let the kid have at it. He had a blast and I was a sopping mess. Not bothering to change into dry duds I went back to my crazed gardening. When the tall ones got home, along with being awed by what I’d gotten done, they were giggling over my appearance. Alex said I looked like a mud puppy. According to my recently acquired gardening lore it’s a bad idea to cut off the bulb flower foliage. After the flowers have faded the leaves continue to grow and make food for the bulb. It’s suggested the leaves be bundled so things look tidier. So that’s what I did. The only thing I could find to tie my bundles was a skein of curling ribbon. Mike was unaware of the ‘no cut’ policy. He was certain I’d totally gone off my chump and tenderly asked if I was feeling okay when he saw the dozens of shocks of daff leaves all tied up like Christmas presents. Today it’s cold and raining. Thank God. No gardening for me! However there’s that afghan I’ve been meaning to work on… Here we go again, ~LA Today’s Pick: “Obsession” by Animotion
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