Obsess Much?

My son, Earnhardt and I were watching TV one night as we so often do and came across a channel that  advertised a show called "Obsessed Moms" or something to that effect. The commercial depicted seemingly normal moms with slightly weird obsessions. Immediately I turned to Earnhardt and said in a voice a little bit too loud, "I'm not obsessed." Perhaps I was loud because of the look he was giving me. Perhaps it was the pile of fifteen cookbooks in front of me that I was going through and meticulously putting bookmarks in on the pages that had recipes I wanted to try. Perhaps it's because maybe I am obsessed, a little.
Okay, so I'm obsessed. By cookbooks and recipes, yes, but by so much more and there really isn't any such thing as being a little obsessed because that's the whole point of obsession; you have to go whole hog.
I subscribed to cooking magazines as well as belong to a cookbook  book club. I watch a lot of cooking reality shows. I have two clipboards hanging in my kitchen chocked with recipes; one is for non-meat recipes, the other is recipes with meat. I have folders and binders full of recipes that I've torn out of the magazines I buy, that I dog eared just for that purpose. The folders and binders have labels like, "Cocktails," "Appetizers," "Entrees," etc. I have over 50 cookbooks, old and new with little sticky notes in them, bookmarked and more dog ears. I intend to make every last dish. My friend, Lisa, after having read and seen "Julie and Julia" refused to give me "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" for fear she and her family would become guinea pigs to the experiment I would most certainly attempt just as Julie had done. "I'm not eating Aspic for anyone," she bemoaned. But she's right, I would have and so far have not received the book nor bought it. I don't have the time. Some day...
This obsession with recipes and cookbooks and food in general might not be much to complain about if that was where it ended. But, of course, it doesn't end there.
When I wash and dry and iron and put away my clothes they have a certain order; not by color or length or season, but by what was worn last. My underwear drawer is set up so that everything is on rotation; bras, underwear, socks - all of them must be newcomers to the back and move everything else up so that everything is worn in order. Every "one" gets a chance. Same goes for my clothes. This really helps me figure out what I'm wearing and what and why I'm not wearing other things. That's my excuse. Reality is; I'm obsessed with giving every outfit fair play. I like things in order. I "play" with my clothes. I can spend an entire day matching up outfits together with the appropriate jewelry hanging from the hangers. I constantly "shop my closet" for new outfits and ideas I haven't yet tried.
I've already ordered my reading books, no, not in alphabetically order (I'm not anal, I'm obsessed) but in the order in which I want to read them. I read one "have to" and then one "want to." Have to's are classics, want to's are best sellers and the like. I don't go anywhere without a book; "in case I get bored" i.e. sitting at a gas station, red light, lunch with someone opposite me texting... I also have a stack of magazine pages with book reviews of books I don't have already and want to read. When someone asks if I've read something I usually say, "it's on the list.."
In my car I have a basket between the two seats. In the basket the box of tissues is always in the upper right corner while the container of pens and my sunglasses are in the bottom left-hand corner. The first aid kit is in the door and the bag that has a change of clothes for everyone is in the way back. I have extra napkins, straws and wetnaps just in case. I have chap stick on my key chain. I always pull out my cup holder before I get my drink at the drive through and I always say thank you after I order.
In my kitchen, my wooden spoons are in one container while the rubber spatulas are in another. Don't you dare put my peeler in the second drawer where I can't find it, it belongs with the silverware because of it's size. I only like to eat with the heavier forks (where previously I preferred the salad fork because I have a small mouth, regardless of what my brothers think). I drink 16 ounces of water every morning but prefer not to call it "my water" because it annoys me when someone is on a fitness kick and refers to things as "my" (i.e. I have to eat my banana now. I have to go on my walk. I need to take my vitamin...) get over it, it's a banana, a walk and a vitamin.
Maybe I'm not like the mom on TV who was caught saying, "Honey, I know you just broke your arm, but mommy has to work out before we go home." I know I'm not quite that bad yet but I know I'm on my way. I'm trying not to let my obsessions run my life. I've been working very hard at it. Actually, I'm kind of obsessed with it.