Sunday, 2 December 2012

OCD-induced anxiety

If you suffer from the slightest degree of OCD, I recommend you don't move to PNG. It will make you head 'splode.

I freely admit to suffering OCD about MANY things. I have known to become anxious because my couch is 8 degrees out of true straight alignment with the floorboards. I clean my house starting at the same point every time and finishing the same. If I don't do it like this, it doesn't feel clean.

Oh, so sue me, I'm a freak.

But a NEAT freak, with a Type-A personality and a fucking clean house, my friend.

Lae suffers from hundreds of small tremors every year, which means I spend a lot of time straightening pictures and knick-knacks that have moved mere millimeters out of line.

It's kinda what I do, you know, instead of having a job or anything important like that.

In fact, the step-monsters only disclosed to me on their recent trip up, that when they wanted to piss me off, they would get into my pantry and move the spices around.

That's pretty much a declaration of war, right there.

So, yesterday The Husbang finally got around to hanging some of the pictures that came up from our last house in Australia.

In particular, there is a beautiful Monet print that my father bought me on one of his trips to Europe. Purchased at Giverny I believed, and then hand-finished by hm, and framed.

It's one of my few pride and joys, made all the more important because Dad's been dead nearly 6 years.

This picture has hung in various houses across the world, either above the mantlepiece or in the bedroom.

So The Husbang and I are measuring up the bedroom wall to hang said pic.

Husbang is as bad as I am in the OCD department. It's one of the reasons we've stayed married all these years. He's as nit-picking and neurotic about pictures and couches and storing spice jars by size and alphabetizing them and things being in the right place as I am.

So here's where PNG, and in particular PNG workmen/builders get their evil revenge on us.

There is not one single wall in our house that is straight or level in any plane.

The wall on which I want to hang this picture has a 5 inch differentiation from one corner to the other. Which means that no matter how you hang the picture, it doesn't ever look straight.

But there's more. On said wall there is an airconditioning unit.

Not in the centre of the wall.

On either side, and just below the AC unit, there are 2 wall lights.

They are not evenly spaced in relation to the AC unit.

The airconditioning unit isn't level. It falls to the left by an inch.

The switches for these lights are not evenly spaces in relation to the lights. One switch is underneath a light fitting, and the other is bangfuckingsmack in the middle of the wall.

Now, our bed is centred in relation to the light fittings, which means the AC unit is all squiffy in relation to the bed.

When we have sex, we have to turn around and face the foot of the bed, because if either of us look up and see this abortion of angles and relative-spacing anarchy, we faint.

So, The Husbang is standing on the bed, I am holding my Dad's beloved picture and we're both getting angrier and angrier. The Husbang, tha man who once re-tiled an entire bathroom because the tiles against the bath were 3mm out of true, starts saying things like "Do they do this on purpose?" and " Maybe we should move to Sweden?".

The alternative was to put the painting in storage, but really? Why allow the evil machinations of CLEARLY a demonic group of plasterers and  electricians who are planning to overthrow the expat community of Lae by making their brains explode via OCD-induced anxiety win?

This is war, people. Haiti had its L'Ouverture, Rome had Sparticus, MANY nations have thrown out their usurpers but none as craftily as the way the sneaky machinations of Lae Builders have manifested.

In a show of defiance, we've hung the picture!! Oh yes, take THAT Builders Navvies of Evil!! You shall not win, you Demonic Decorators of Dissent. I can't actually SLEEP in the bed, nor LOOK at the picture without trembling with anxiety, but it's a small price to pay to triumph over these Type B Terrorists.



   However, we both needed a Valium and a lie down afterwards. In the spare room. Whose light fittings don't match.



I'm buying us sleeping-eye-patches-thingies for Crimbo,

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