My brother Richard to the rescue ... for the United States of America and for his older brother on the beach!

One Scene Taken from but One Angle Behind a Chair in my Living Room

It never really occurred to me that I might be suffering from a form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) common among the elderly and persons, who, like myself are otherwise quite rational persons. I am, in particular, a person prone to always being entirely correct in matters political, historical (except for the names of my children--and their birth dates) and scientific/mathematical. I also used to play the clarinet and chess--equally badly.

Anyway, when I received a note on my front door from a lady who did an estimate of what it would take/cost to "deep clean" my home, I went into a mild (clinical) state of depression.

Her visit occurred during one of my otherwise benign conversations with my brother, Richard in Connecticut and her note was handed to me by Laverna (long story) when she (LaVerna) arrived back from the Food Bank. I honestly hadn't even heard the lady banging (I assume) on my front door and then traipsing through my place (impossible except for the very nimble) for a full half hour (according to the note she left the note pinned to my front door). She wrote:

[begin quote] Joe -- This is very expensive, but we will need to put everything outside, sort stuff for the dump or thrift shop [where does she think I got it in the first place?] ... we can do this sat 6/30 at 2:30 - 5:30. Then to dump or thrift store on Mon 7/2 and deep clean on Tuesday at 1:00 - 4:00. ... Lois [end of quote]

Oh yes, she left a price estimate on her note that spun my head and would/will probably put a stop to my Salvation Army Thrift Store visits for five years. I still wonder where my eight (one belongs to a homeless lady staying in my loft) cats were while she was wondering about ... or where the resident raccoon, Richard, who lives under my front porch ... also was ... while she was getting one helluva look-see through the front window before entering.

Richard (my brother, and not the raccoon under my front porch) explained to me that I was simply suffering from a form of OCD that runs in the family and then went through some of my own history, plus others' in the family. Basically, we all suffer--or had suffered--from severe anxiety at some point and this somehow causes/caused us to find it impossible to throw out seemingly worthless items. I thought back, and that's right ... my wife and I had twelve (actually very worthwhile, I think) kids whom we never once thought of throwing out. Hellfire, my wife would throw me out first!

I don't think I'll carry that thought any further.

Indecisiveness, procrastination and disorganization are other symptoms of the OCD syndrome. Compulsive hoarding, which I now know affects up to 5 million people in the United States, is usually found in persons with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD).

Yeesh! Giving it a name helps, but now what? I've decided to bite the bullet and let the woman do her thing with her team of trash-haulers tomorrow, but I just might stop by my family physician next week and try to get a prescription for Paxil (paroxetine) which is a form of antidepressant that I've learned from the web ... might help.

What next, Richard? Uhh ... Brother Richard, not raccoon Richard ...