Not only do I wash the dishes by hand (well not a thorough wash, more of a super rinse) before putting them in the dishwasher, but the dishes must be put into the dishwasher in a very specific way. If someone else loads the dishwasher incorrectly then I will very often rearrange the dishes until they are arranged correctly. It takes an act of will to not rearrange them. If anyone cares to know, I can describe the correct method.
I also often feel the need to clarify what I am saying or writing so that it comes out as honest as possible (which is why you will often see many parenthetical statements in my posts). This probably drives the grammar folks wonky. (I think I just made that word up or maybe used it incorrectly but I like the sound of it). I don’t feel the need to do this if I am speaking or writing something humorous. In that case over explanation can just screw it up. Also, it is ok (or even desirable) to leave things gray or fib a little when trying to be funny. I think this comes from a fear of being misunderstood and / or being caught in a fib. Unfortunately it probably often makes things less clear rather than more clear.
P.S. Stones Speak wins my special “Lurker of the Year” award for coming back to a thread she / he first posted in over 10 months ago to update the first post in a relevant manner.
Punctuality. It’s such a small thing, but being even a couple of minutes late bugs me. I get tense; I will exceed the speed limit. Sometimes I can relax about it, but most of the time…
Count me in on the phone-thing too. My friends get quite exasperated with me because I refuse to call and order a pizza. I don’t know how many times I’ve ordered Papa John’s instead of something else I wanted simply because I can order Papa John’s online.
Anything that can get done via email or snail mail, I do it that way. The phone is only used when it is the only option available.
I once tried to take a job in an in-bound call center. I couldn’t do it. I quit after two weeks because the stress was just not worth it.
I always zip up my friends’ backpacks all the way. One of them usually leaves an inch or so unzipped on each of the pockets, so if I’m walking behind her, I’ll zip it up. She thinks I’m insane.
Crooked and/or unevenly spaced things drive me nuts. I always go back and erase my writing because the letters are too close together or too far apart. I was drawing some straight lines with a ruler last weekend for a project and realized that the ruler was warped, so I had to go back and fix it all. Shame that I can’t draw or cut a straight line to save my life without a ruler, though.
Misplaced hair. Mostly it’s with guys, so they probably think I’m flirting when I reach up and brush their hair back out of their face. Nah, it just bugs me. Go comb your hair! Right now! Better yet, buzz cut! Your bangs will never fall in your eyes then!
If I’m pronouncing a foreign word, I usually have to stop and ask someone how to pronounce it, so I won’t embarrass myself trying to say it. Of course, since I’m usually the only one with any inkling of the pronunciation anyway, it doesn’t matter, but I want to be right.
The silverware drawer is my domain. You don’t put steak knives and butter knives together. Period. And the forks with the long prongs (or whatever you call them) are separate from the forks with the short prongs which are separate from the silver forks my dad’s mom gave him. I go in and rearrange all the silverware all the time.
I also hate the phone. I e-mail and IM as much as possible. I’m just afraid that I’ll call and bother somebody. One of my “friends” calls all the freaking time, which I really hate. I don’t want to be like her.
jessica
I actually don’t care that much about spelling. My own or anyone elses as long as I can understand them. But when somebody corrects my spelling then suddenly I am just mad again and I stew for days over it. It all has to do with the hell I put up with in ‘school’ but it just really eats at me when ever someone corrects my spelling.
I also will go over bad confrontations from the past. Stirring up all the rage over and over again. I still get mad over some work confrontations that took place at a different job over six years ago. That can’t be good.
I do this too, but only with silverware. The handles MUST go down, with the dirty goes-in-your-mouth end sticking up to get completely clean and sterilized. If I empty the dishwasher and (god forbid) I find an item that did sneak through a cycle pointing the wrong way, then it just bought itself another washing.
I’m not sure where I heard this so it may just be something I made up,but I live by it anyway: I heard (read, saw on tv, made up, whatever) that it doesn’t really matter which way the tines are pointing (dirty side up or dirty side down). The real way to make sure the silverware is cleaned properly is to avoid “nesting” the silverware. For example, if you place all of your spoons together in the same slot (either facing up or down) they will tend to nest together making it impossible for at least one side to get clean.
So I load silverware like this: one spoon, one knife, one fork in each slot facing down. In the event of more silverware, repeat the above only facing up. If I have even more silverware, I start back over and hope that no nesting occurs.
But my obsession does not end there! On the bottom rack, the plates must be aligned from smallest closest to the center to largest farthest away. Cutting boards or large pans go all the way to the outer edge. I have rearragened an already loaded dishwasher to accomodate a new dish into the preferred pattern. On the upper rack, coffee mugs and glasses must go on the outer edge. Wine and pilsner glasses must go on the left outer edge towards the back. Large utensils (large knifes, spatulas, serving spoons, etc.) must lay flat on the right hand side towards the center of the rack.
There’s more but I think I may have revealed too much already.
I just remembered an exception for the silverware: knives must always face down. The fear of getting cut trumps the fear of any knife nesting that may occur.
Don’t think of much small stuff I sweat. Yeah, I’m pretty much always early to avoid being late, then I invariably have to wait around. I’m getting better, tho. On occasion I am purposely just on time or even a minute or two late. And of course those are the only times things go off on schedule!
A biggie used to be leaving the house with the family. Even if it didn’t matter when we got somewhere, if we said we were going to leave the house at, say, 3:00, I see no reason why people can’t be ready at friggin 3:00. Over the past 16 years, I have learned that Ms. D is apparently incapable of leaving the house at an appointed time, so I simply get ready, and then sit down in the front room with some reading material until she has her coat on and is heading out the door. Then I even fake a laugh when she makes her incredibly clever joke that she “always has to wait” for me.
Just thought of another time one. I do a lot if not most of the cooking in our home. Dinner will be ready, I’ll set it on the table, and will have to go all over the house to call my wife and 3 kids to table. I used to just say, “Dinner’s ready.” Then when no one showed up, I’d kinda resent having to call them a second time and they’d say, “Oh, you meant now?” So I decided to give them an accurate 1 or 2 minute warning. “Dinner will be ready in 2 minutes.” Which generated one of 2 responses. Either everyone would immediately crowd the kitchen with the appearance of starving slavering jackals while I made my final prep, or the alloted time would pass with no one showing.
I guess I’m a real asshole when it comes to time.
Now the dear Mrs. D sweats all kinds of small stuff with which I unintentionally drive her nuts. Short list:
-I don’t close closet doors, dresser drawers all the way.
-all clothes, estpecially socks, have to be folded/rolled some special way.
-my collar seems to never be lying just right.
-I apparently don’t know what it means for clothes to “match.”
-things not being presently used must be “put away.”
-bottles/jars have to be wiped before recapped and put away.
-there is a miniscule margin of error for parking the cars in “the right spots” in the garage.
-apparently I do not know how to make a bed properly.
-towels are to be folded “just so.”
-apparently I leave incredible amounts of water around any faucet I use.
Man, aren’t I a whiner? I must be an absolute bitch to live with. Complying with all those rules at home, you should see the pigsty that is my office.
I live in a historic distric, and my apartment building is minimally converted to mod cons. No washer dryer hookup.
You’d think I was going to the Yukon, the way I avoid the laudromat. (3 blocks away, on the left. I drive. It’s usually empty.)
The tremendous amounts of laundry that must be amassed–The bitching, moaning, and bringing of reading material, refreshments, headphones, phone, kitchen sink–The 2 hour loading of the car 1 basket at the time–the numerous breaks to read the SDMB…
Not to mention how many times I’ve loaded the car and so completely lost any will to launder that the laundry has sat in my car until the next day.
It is weird, because I am not a neat freak (faaaaaar from that!) but some things have to be a special way or it bugs the hell out of me !
The roll of toilet paper has to be put in a certain way, so the paper unrolls from the top… (same with paper towel if you have this hanging stuff). I go as far as changing it in other people’s house when I use their bathroom!!! It is just so much easier and just plain logical!
Another thing that drives me INSANE is the guy for the Champion commercial on TV (the loan company)… “when your bank says no, Champions says YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS” oh GOD the way is keeps this SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS going makes me want to strangle him!
I have no dishwasher. Globs of organic peanut butter left on knives drive me crazy. I loathe the aroma that wafts up to my face as the hot water hits the peanut butter smeared knife. It makes me want to gag. It makes me want to take the knife and and wipe the excess putrescent goo on his favorite black turtleneck sweater. Cognitively, I know this is small stuff but my olfactory nerves are sending me a different message.