metro post!

April 15, 2010

Wow, I didn’t know this existed: a bathroom at a metro station. You realize that I have been wanting to see restrooms at metro stations for my entire DC existence (almost 6 years to be precise). You see, I have been cursed with a small bladder; apparently it runs in our family. How many times have you been on a long metro ride only to have an intense need to relieve yourself upon exiting the metro? I know it has happened to me one too many times, and apparently, Huntington has had the answer all along. Who knew?

I recommend you watch the video that I linked to above. I know that I cringed each time he went in to press a button. Can you imagine how many germs are on those things???!!! Time for some hand sanitizer.


meet me at the Starbucks…

January 28, 2010

Yesterday morning, I was walking out of Starbucks and let the door pretty much slam in some guy’s face. Why, you may ask? Because I didn’t want to touch the door, obviously. I heard him “phhhhh” at me in disbelief as I did it. Now, I feel bad. Maybe I would have felt better about it if I had explained to him, “sorry, I’m OCD…I can’t touch the door so instead run through the smallest opening before it closes on me and let it slam in your face. All so I don’t have to obsess over the germs on my hand for the rest of the walk to work, because obviously I would have washed my hands as soon as I entered the building.” Think that might work? Worth a try.


OCD excerpt

October 21, 2009

So, occasionally I may open a door with my foot to avoid touching it.  You got a problem with that?


the trials and tribulations of being OCD

September 30, 2009

So last night a friend and I are waiting in line so we can get good floor seats to the U2  show at FedEx field (we ended up getting second row which was fantastic).  So we’re waiting in line and the One Campaign is going around trying to get people to sign up.  I don’t really know too much about the campaign, but I know Bono does good things.  They ask us to sign up and I want to, but I’m hesitant.  This is only because they are going around with little mini laptops and ask the people to enter in their own information.  I could just picture 50 people before me putting their little claws on that keyboard.  Touching it would have meant standing in line for another hour after that without washing my hands, and the thought of that was less than pleasant.  So she asks me, and I reply…”well, I want to, but can you type it for me?  I’m a little bit OCD.”  Why did I find the need to tell her why I didn’t want to put my fingers on the keyboard?  Regardless, she didn’t seem to have a problem with my request, so typed my info in with no qualms.  Guess she’s not OCD like me.  And oddly, she didn’t look at me like I belonged in an insane asylum when I asked her to type it.  She must get that a lot.  I guess I could have told her I had a broken finger or something, and that excuse would have been more plausible.  But, I am a horrible liar, so saying anything other than complete honesty didn’t even cross my mind at the time.  Maybe I should take covering up this little personality flaw more seriously.