I watch an episode of Futurama every night. Every damn night. I can’t sleep if I haven’t watched it. I’ve suffered from insomnia for years, never bad enough to see a professional about, just annoying really. Earlier this year I started watching Futurama in bed (laptop on the bedside table) and I found I could drift off to ‘almost sleep’ quite easily.
So every night since, I’ve watched an episode of Futurama. Sometimes with the commentary track on, sometimes not.
I’ve experimented with other programs, but it seems the necessary ingredient is Futurama. Who knew?!
The toothpaste tube must be squeezed from the bottom. Doesn’t matter how full it is, if there’s a dent in the middle of it, I have to fix it, so that the end has no toothpaste in it, and the rest of the tube is packed full.
My music library on my computer also must have at least names for every track. None of this silly “Track 1” stuff. I can’t tell what anything is if I don’t have track names. I suspect I’m not alone in this one, though.
I set my alarm at 730pm every night but right before I go to bed I turn it off and on then I click the alarm button to make sure the AM’s and PM’s are right then I repeat the whole thing 19 more times.
I shave until I can rub in every direction on every part of my face without feeling any trace of hair.
I can’t be in a room with the door open. I can’t stand being in one room and seeing another room. This is pretty much the same for cupboard doors.
The last one is TMI so I’ll put it in spoiler tags:
I have to masturbate before I fall asleep at night. It’s not even because I’m ‘excited’ or whatever. I just have to. I don’t know why. A lot of the time (90%) I’ll stop in the middle of it and do the alarm thing. Sort of an intermission, I guess…
If I start watching a TV show, I can’t miss an episode. I have two vcr’s hooked up to two different tv’s just in case a few series’ are scheduled on top of one another. I watched the first episode of lost and it took me until the 3rd episode of the second season before I could ween myself off of the damn thing. I could barely stand it but I couldn’t stand not knowing what happened. The strange thing is, it’s the same for Sitcoms (most of which don’t have anything in the way of cliffhangers). Virtually every single show I’ve started to watch from the beginning I’ve seen every single episode of.
I chew my lip - for the same reason some of you pick you cuticles. Lip must be smooth.
I also have to have all of my dresser drawers shut before going to sleep. Not even a little open with a a t-shirt peeking out.
My laces have to be double knotted.
I don’t like my hair tangled. It gives me a stuffy feeling. At the same time, I can’t talk to someone if I am brushing my hair and it’s tangled. I will throw the brush at them in frustration.
I check, recheck, check again, god knows how many times – that I’ve turned the electric stove off at the wall. Sometimes, if I look at the switch from across the room, I start doubting what my eyes tell me, and I have to look at it up close again.
Same with locking the front door, checking windows etc. Multiple checks. I try not to think about them as I walk away because it means I go back to check 'em all again.
I also check I have my wallet with me safe, and my keys, at various points during the day.
Lip balm. Since 1980, I have had to apply lipbalm to my lips at least once every half hour (during waking hours.) I will wake up to apply a fresh coat.
I am never more than inches away from my precious, precious little tube.
I really hate taking a dump without having something to read (although I have no problems when pooing on the firm’s time, when reading matter is unnecessary and might sound vaguely suspicious from the next cubicle). If there’s nothing to read in there, I will cast about me for something to take in, even to the point of hopping from foot to foot while I’m looking…
My fingernails are permanently bitten short, although not raw. For a blissful three-year period, I sublimated with nail clippers instead and achieved a respectful set of nails, though I had to tidy them up regularly with the clippers. Unfortunately a cow-orker complained about the clipping noise and I have never been In The Zone since.
I have several others to add, now that I have seen some of the other responses.
At the gas pump the total must end in a 0 or 5. This is one of few purchases where I can control the exact amount I pay. If I could do this with everything I’d round to the nearest nickel.
In a restaurant I have to be able to see the door where I am sitting. In fact, in any room outside of my own home or in someone else’s home (i.e. the break room at work) I have to see the door and watch for who is coming in.
If I have a collection of identical or similar items that come in different colors I have to sort them by order of colors as they appear in the rainbow (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple).
When using Q-tips, I never stop when it makes sense, but continue long after I’ve decided to stop. It always makes me feel stange that I can’t control that impulse.
I twirl my hair and chew on the ends. All the time. Watching t.v., internet surfing, working, exercising - you name it!
Since my husband hates, hates, hates this (he says he can even see me doing it out of the corner of his eyes in movie theatres) I made a resolution to stop. It’s been 11 days now.
Actually, all my really obsessive behaviors are toilet related, but you don’t want to hear about that. Let’s just say I’m as clean afterward as I am beforehand, if not more so.
Any time I’ve been under the hood of a car, I have to re-check under the hood the very next time I use that car.
Years ago, I left an oil cap off the engine after adding a quart. At the next rest stop, I noticed a small wisp of smoke coming from under the hood–oil that had been thrown out the open hole in the engine and onto the exhaust manifold.
Ever since, I re-check.
I recheck tires I’ve checked pressures on to make sure I got the valve caps on tight.
The first driveaway after an oil change, fluid addition, whatever,my wife says to me at the first stop sign from the house, “I know you want to, so instead of looking all nervous and constipated , just pop the hood and get it over with.”
I am insane about making sure I’ve closed the garage door- sometimes I’ll even circle the block and come back home to make sure I didn’t forget. I have never forgotten.
If I go to the airport, I check for my ID before I leave, in the car on the way to the airport, and in the airport. I have to check for it all 3 times. I can’t just check for it once and KNOW it’s there.
There are a few words that I seem to obsess on, and say out loud compulsively unless I control myself.
I also chew and/or tear at my cuticles. Then I’ll take a pair of nail clippers and cut off all the loose hangnails, dead pieces of skin that bother me, etc. Similarly, I’ve always been prone to picking at my face when I had acne, or picking at scabs, etc.
I sucked my thumb until a ridiculous age as a kid, and still have my old, raggedy security blanket - I like to cover myself with it when I watch TV, and I compulsively rub the soft binding material between my fingers.
When I carry things in my pockets, I must check my pockets repeatedly, naming what is in them. I manage to do the naming in my head, but it’s common to see me standing somewhere, patting myself down to make sure my stuff is still there.
I check alarm clocks several times before I can go to bed.
When I’ve sent an e-mail to someone, checking to see if they’ve replied becomes my obsession until they do reply. Same thing with phone messages. If people don’t call or write me back, I then go insane temporarily. I’ve been working on this.
I always need to have a timepiece nearby. I put on my watch each day immediately after I dress. I am uneasy, in fact, without a watch on unless it’s fairly late at night and obvious that I’m not going anywhere.
Empty hangers always go to the left side of the closet. Additionally, shirt hangers and pants hangers must be separated.
A friend of mine who’s doing her Occupational Therapy Masters does this, and she was told that it’s an increasing-alertness mechanism. That’s why one tends to do it when stressed. Makes a certain kind of sense to me.
