When doing the dishes, my tendency is to go all OCD on them and soak everything, then scrub each pot, pan, plate, cheese grater, whatever, with a scouring sponge, rinse everything thoroughly and finally load the dishwasher for a thorough wash cycle.
I have had a couple of well-meaning people (who apparently do their share of dish cleaning themselves), tell me that here is a place where I can cut corners. That I should, as they put it, “Let the dishwasher do the work.”
It is certainly true that it seems to take me quite a while to clean a pile of dishes. I suppose it is probably also better for the environment, if everyone in the world were to wash their dishes in a deliberately half-assed manner. Less water used and all. This morning, I did an overflowing sinkful of dishes and tried to be faster/ less anal about it. The whole chore went a lot quicker, and aside from writing this post, I didn’t really think about it again for the rest of the day. No major catastrophes occurred due to this change in behavior.
That is the thing with OCD. If you don’t do what it is telling you to do in the moment, you feel as though you might die or go crazy. But once you remind yourself, ‘Hey Self, you’re being a little obsessive-compulsive about this dumb thing and it’s costing you too much of your precious time & energy,’ it becomes easier to let go of the little stickywicket and move on.
Sometimes I am aware of consciously telling myself, ‘It’s OK to move on from that. Just stop it and move on.’ (Yes, I do talk to myself in my mind. I have done this since a very young age. It is probably a writer thing. Or maybe just a crazy thing. Do you?) My self-diagnosed OCD has never been paralyzing or incapacitating, but it has certainly inconvenienced me/ those who know me/ work with me, from time to time.
Luckily, my husband is not the type to notice or complain about a less-than-sparkling drinking glass. Thank God! Our marriage certainly would not have lasted this long if he were. He is a pretty easygoing fellow. I love you The Greg-man!