I’ve always been this way. When I was younger, if I were walking someplace and saw a rock to kick, I’d kick it. The moment I kicked it in a diagonal direction from where I was going… I would continue to walk straight and usually within fifteen seconds of walking away from “my rock,” I would turn back and try to kick it straight again.
My point is: I’ve never been able to let things go, gd forbid… forget, nor move on. Any (noun), no matter how insignificant, would cause me as much turmoil as something consequential.
Case in point: my bedspread.
This evening while I was going to de-bed my pillows (sorry… I have “de plane” on my brain), I noticed the tag of my spread on my bed. Then, I noticed that the sides of my bed barely had spread.
Immediately, I lost my shit. How fucking hard is it to make a bed? Huh? It’s not rocket science and yet so many people in my presence can easily fuck it up- causing my low white count blood to boil.
Does everybody who makes my bed (I’m talking college student who comes T-F and housekeeper- who must be pissing others on the ML off!) not know that anything with stripes runs north and south? Tags go on the bottom. Nobody pulls the spread up over their heads and past the back of the headboard, and that is how much of the spread I had (I since the soon to be graduate did not know to (or bother) check that the sides of the bed were not covered!
Further tossing me into a tizzy was then spotting my two poufs, stacked in the corner of my room and then seeing my club chairs arrested against my WHITE PANELS!!! MY WHITE PANELS WHICH SHOULD BE BUNCHED TIGHT TO THE RIGHT AND ARE NOW SPREAD MIDWAY ACROSS MY WINDOW BY HER 6’1″ HANDS! FOR THE LOVE OF GD, EVERY NIGHT I FIX THE ARRANGEMENT AND EVERY MORNING SHE CONTINUES TO INFURIATE ME.
So much so that this is what I sent her this evening.
Since I can hear it now, no… I don’t have bigger problems to worry about! And, no… in the scheme of things I still cannot stop who I am to the core… a harper.