Posts Tagged ‘compulsion’
Opposing Forces
What triggered the thought in my head to ask, I do not know. My mild compulsion to seek order and repetition in my daily activities leads me to reset some things while often completely ignoring others. Really, the majority of my efforts for order are preemptive, enacted with the intent of easing future tasks.
One example of this is rinsing pans, dishes, and utensils instantly after use to avoid foods drying to the surface and becoming more difficult to clean later. Another version is clearing snow to a distance beyond the edges of the driveway or walkways to make it easier to clear future accumulations.
However, not all my impulses are entirely practical. This one is probably more aesthetic.
Recently, I noticed that I have repeatedly been adjusting the entryway rug inside our front door to pull it off the sill. I figured normal traffic or possibly an exuberant dog was causing the rug to slide up against the door, so I kept moving it back.
Then, for an unknown reason, I experienced a vivid moment of intuition that led me to ask Cyndie if she moves the front rug up against the door sill.
“Yes,” she said. “I do.”
Aha! We have been unknowingly operating at cross-purposes, doing battle back and forth with opposing intentions.
She was thinking about catching debris from dirty boots on the rug, so she surmised there should be no space between the rug and sill. I said we could just step onto the rug when we come inside.
Something in me senses the rug should be spaced away to avoid possible interference with opening the door.
Cyndie and I are very different in many ways, so it shouldn’t be all that surprising that we were working against each other in this regard, but it is always humorous to discover little details like this when we have been living together for over 40 years.
Our opposing forces may be part of our mutual attraction and balance the many ways we are alike. There is something to the adage that “opposites attract.” It’s rather magnetic, isn’t it?
.
.
Satisfying Breakage
You know that almost uncontrollable and usually insatiable urge to pop bubble wrap? I suggest that whatever drives that urge also drives our compulsion to break overnight ice this time of year. The fact that the action can often sound like breaking glass, but happens without the pesky need to meticulously clean up every last shard, probably contributes to the attraction.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
With childlike glee we stomp our way along the driveway, unleashing faux carnage against the aging ice that shatters with each strike.
We can thank the wild swings of temperature for the excellent ice-breaking conditions we have been enjoying lately. This morning it was a mere 1°F outside and felt every bit as bone-chilling cold as below-zero days can feel. I suspect our bodies are already down the path of adjusting to springtime weather. Certainly, our minds have already made that leap.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
In the fields, the snowpack is morphing into an artistic archipelago of grass and snow. The firmly frozen surface now frees us to wander away from the usual paths so we can explore the surroundings at will.
But really, as fun as that is to be able to do, it doesn’t hold a candle to the unmitigated glee of smashing old ice to bits.
.
.
.
Several Routines
As I was going through my usual work-week routine last night, preparing my breakfast and lunch for today, this is what I observed: I have a tendency for routine. Every night before work, I take steps to support my quick departure the next morning at an early hour to beat traffic in my long commute to the far side of the Twin Cities.
In the morning, all I need to do is get dressed and go, after waking and going through my planking and stretching routine. My clothes were selected the night before and my breakfast and lunch foods prepared in advance.
My process for preparing my foods for the workday is equally routine.
I precisely measure my serving of cereal for the morning breakfast to stay below my threshold for added sugar. The amount of yogurt that I serve with my cereal is only a fraction of the amount in a typical “single serving” package. There is a perfect-sized spoon I like to use for this small serving of yogurt.
Since I do this routine repeatedly, I don’t simply put the spoon in with dirty dishes when I am done with it. I wash the spoon and place it back in the silverware drawer, but not just anywhere. I slip it beneath all the other various spoons of that style so I can be sure to find it the next day.
Some have a smaller scoop. Some have longer handles. Those aren’t the ones I want.
I do this because, if I leave it right on top, the odds are high that Cyndie will take it next time she is looking for a spoon.
Seems simple enough at this point, I hope. However, this plan doesn’t always produce the desired results.
Very often, when I reach in to grab “my spoon,” it’s not there on the bottom anymore.
Why not?
I’ve talked with Cyndie about it, and she has no clue.
In my head, I picture her reaching in and grabbing whatever spoon is on top at the time. This shouldn’t mix the order enough to dislodge my carefully stowed particular spoon.
Must be some other mysterious law of physics I know nothing about.
Now, by this point, you must be imagining any number of easy alternative solutions to avoiding this problem of keeping track of one specific spoon. I could tie a ribbon on the handle. I could place it in a different location away from the other spoons.
I know.
But, honestly, this situation doesn’t even deserve the number of words I’m wasting on it here. If I seriously fretted over this, I could easily come up with a more permanent solution. It’s become more of a game for me to see if the spoon will be there, or not.
I’m intrigued by the odd phenomenon.
And look, it provided fodder for another of my ROUTINEs: writing a daily blog post.
Obviously, I have a tendency for routine.
.
.
Relative Something 