I’m pretty sure I have a touch of OCD. I’ve never been officially diagnosed, but I’m pretty sure I have a little nagging, whiny OCD gene floating around in my head that pops up at the most inconvenient times. Like when I’m too tired to do anything. Or when I want to relax. Or when I just want to complete a simple little project. And keep it simple.
But the word simple is not in my OCD’s vocabulary.
I once stayed up for THREE WHOLE DAYS AND NIGHTS – I kid you not – finishing a baby quilt for my son’s first baby. Notice I said “finishing,” not making. Read on and you’ll understand.
I really don’t understand why my OCD can’t tell me BEFORE I take on a project that he’s (yes, I call him “he” – keep reading and you’ll understand) going to insist, somewhere along the way…