The Library

Over the past few years of our marriage, I have prided myself on not having OCD. I often remind Jeff how lucky he is to be married to me, a non-OCD afflicted wife, and I like to point out the other women in our community who suffer from it (they know who they are.)

But all of a sudden, I seem to have come down with a case of it. See, it all started when the MWR contractor (that's for Morale, Welfare, & Recreation) moved to a new building. They moved the gym, the movie room, the game room and the library; and when they moved the library, they just threw the books on the shelves in no particular order.

There are a LOT of books, thanks to Operation Paperback.

So, I couldn't help myself... well, my mother is a professional merchandiser, so I come by it honestly. I started to alphabetize the books. Then, I decided I needed a system, so I labeled the shelves to make it easier to alphabetize. I spend a little bit of time there each day, organizing. It might take me all year.

One of my colleagues offered to spend four hours at once and knock it all out, but I emphatically said NO. I decided, after reflecting on my desire to waste this collossal amount of time, that organizing the library books is really a metaphor for gaining control over the chaos of this entire situation... the war, my job within the war, not understanding the way all the puzzle pieces of bureacracy fit together.

In addition, I don't have much say over anything that I do.... I don't do laundry, cook, shop, choose my meals or clothing. Cleaning responsibilities are minimal. So organizing the library books gives me a ridiculous amount of satisfaction. I have the A's done, and the B's started.