Let’s be honest, most of us have quirks. If left untreated, these little quirks can quickly morph into something more serious, like obsessive compulsive disorder or OCD. My OCD takes the shape of hypochondria where the slightest pain, discoloration of skin or cough has me worried that my life expectancy has been cut in half.
While some OCD’s are harmless, there are some that can cause serious disruption in daily activities. That being said, I think my closest friend has a problem. Her OCD has taken the shape of something more serious than I ever imagined.
When she told me years ago how her husband complains (to anyone who will listen) every time she needs a piece of furniture moved, I felt sorry for her. Soon it became a joke. We would laugh about how he crushed his toe moving her “white chairs” for the 20th time or how he would rather give himself a vasectomy than help her pick out yet another sofa. Eventually, I started feeling sorry for the guy.
To protect her identity we’ll call my friend, Pangel. It was all funny, until a few weeks ago. My family and I went to have dinner at “Pangel’s” house. After dinner she explained why the living room was void of any furniture. It seems she wanted a new sofa, her husband refused and by moving the old sofa out of the room leaving no place for anyone to sit, it was just a matter of who would crack first.
She then led me and another friend, “Faroline,” into the study, where the sofa from the living room now resided. Soon all the men made their way to the study where out of nowhere my friends husband- we’ll call him “Bodhi”- said he refused to help her move “that stupid piano one more time.” He was serious. The next thing I know, Pangel had convinced me and Faroline to move the piano. While Faroline and I were straining, sweating and ruining any chances of bearing more children, Pangel was fine. Fine because she was telling us what we were doing wrong while moving this 8,000 pound music instrument and not actually lifting anything. Having heard enough of her orders I told her to help or move out of the way. She simply said, “I’m not as strong as the two of you.” When my husband tried to intervene and help, Bodhi gave a firm warning. “Don’t touch it, you let them do it. We have to stick together.” Jay knew he was serious and gave me the look of, “You’re on your own.”
When we completed the move Angel was happy and we were exhausted. Before getting ready to leave I decided to sit down only to be told that no one-not even people who just moved an obnoxiously heavy piece of furniture for her- was allowed to sit on her white chairs. I looked at her husband who just gave a smirk.
A few days after the move we were visiting again. I was shocked to see the piano was not in the same place. When I quizzed about where it was Faroline and Bodhi both hung their heads and simultaneously said, “We moved it.” I felt sorry for both of them. They had been defeated. Eventually she did get that new sofa she’d been pining for. The only problem was she had no idea how to place them in the living room. She knew better than to ask her husband to help so she asked me over. A few minutes after arriving and giving the thumbs up I found myself moving furniture in and out of the living room only this time it was worse because it was just the two of us moving. I felt like I was in the middle of a Lucy and Ethel skit.
This little quirk was driving us all to think about investing in an at home shock therapy device. But that would just be one more thing Bodhi would have to move to the attic… then back down stairs again… then back to the attic… and so on and so on.
You can reach Becky Andrews at firstname.lastname@example.orgFor coupons and savings from local merchants check out www.wilsonlivingmagazine.com and click on Shop Wilson…
Angel Kane and Becky Andrews live in Wilson County. This is their story (or tale) about their life, families and times that they share. Besides their weekly column Telling Tales Angel and Becky Co Founded Wilson Living Magazine. The idea of developing a magazine for Wilson County first came to Becky and Angel one afternoon while they sat on her back porch watching their children play in the backyard.
They were discussing the outpouring of emails, calls and responses to their column “Telling Tales” and wanted to find a way to capture that community spirit. People were stopping them wherever they went to share their own “tales.” They suddenly realized everyone has a story to tell and many of these stories were amazing. And in that moment, Wilson Living Magazine came to life. Be sure to check out Wilson Living Magazine at www.wilsonlivingmagazine.com
You can read Angel and Becky's weekly column on-line at www.wilsonpost.com under the Style section.