Every morning I wake up and brush my teeth. I always grab the toothpaste with my left hand and my toothbrush with my right. Then I do this strangely complicated juggling act with the toothpaste lid, my toothbrush, the water faucet, and eventually my mouth. It’s like a really beautiful act of synchronization between my body parts and teeth utensils.
Then there are the mornings when I mistakenly pick up the toothbrush and toothpaste with the wrong hands. I have a mental breakdown. My motor skills collapse. It’s like I don’t know what the process is if I have to apply the toothpaste to the toothbrush with my hands flip flopped.
Yes. I realize how pathetic that is. It just feels unnatural. It’s like how I usually chew my food on a dominant side of my mouth (depending on the texture, consistency, and taste of said food…)
I have to have everything in my car set to multiples of three. My radio volume will always be on 9, 12, or 15 (usually 9. 12 if I’ve got my heat blowing full force or if the road is particularly loud. 15 if it’s a windows down, sunroof open type of day). My temperature settings will always be on 69, 72, or 81. (if not a multiple of three, they have to at least add up to something that is) When people ride with me, they’ll change the temperature (I have a dual climate control thing) and I will reach over and adjust it to the nearest acceptable number. If 69, 72, or 81 is too dramatic a temperature for you, get out and walk. The only exceptions are if it’s set on LO or HI because no temperature integer shows.
I am literally not OCD about anything other than that stuff (although my uncontrollable urge to top all of my food with cheese might count). Although we did pick our wedding date based on its ability to add up to the number 9. 3/17/12 – 3 plus 1 is 4, minus 7 is -3, plus 12 is 9. I don’t know if Mike knows that or not.