One friend washes her hands constantly. Another cannot and I really mean cannot shake hands with anybody. Another can’t handle his pen being moved from exactly where he left it. I also know someone who has to have their tea bag left untouched for exactly 1 minute 40 seconds in a cup of scalding water and don’t dare squeeze that thing as you remove it. Ok, the last one is me, but what’s wrong with developing a method of making the absolute best cup of tea. There’s nothing worse than looking forward to a lovely cuppa and then taking a mouthful of tar or worse – dishwater.
Ok, it’s possible that it is just me and my friends. Birds of a feather do flock together after all, but my friends come from all walks of life and I don’t remember anyone, including myself, having obsessive compulsions when we were children.
Have people always developed quirks as they got older? Why do we have them and what triggers them? I read somewhere once that it’s our attempt to control the world we live in, or at least a little part of it.
It would be nice to have complete control of our lives wouldn’t it? Then we would never have to worry about all the things that keep us awake at night.
It’s not possible though. That’s certain. We’ve spent years basing what makes us happy on getting what we don’t have and nowadays that seems so silly. Keeping what we already have is hard enough.
The longer I live, the more I realise that happiness is a state of mind. You’ve got to want what you have and not waste time longing for what you don’t have. It’s simple but true. Relinquishing control to the cosmos is obviously our best bet and sod the consequences. Imagine the freedom of not checking the lights are turned off seven times every time you leave the house and not caring what could happen if you don't hoover your house four times today.
The strangest thing about my friend who freaked out over the volume button on the TV was that she wasn’t even watching it. Someone else was, but the knowledge that it was there, lurking, taunting her by being on number 17 rather than 16 or 18 made her tremble and shiver.
On the Brightside, I did get to eat most of the lovely biscuits she laid out for my poorly made cup of tea; I didn’t have to see her squeeze the bag to know she did. Ah, to hell with it, I think I’ll switch to coffee.