Favorite Things Friday - Monk Moment #7......

I realized just the other day that it had been a while since I posted about a Monk Moment. And then one occurred today. It's not that I go out LOOKING for things that would drive a true OCD person bonkers. And I can only put this in a Favorite Things Friday post because I've decided I am not truly an OCD person. I notice things that are awry, but I don't let them get to me. I don't fix them. Perhaps I leave them as they are so they will drive a true Monk-type person crazy.

Bwwaaahhhahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

I'm not OCD - I'm a sadist! Further proof: Katydid is more Monk-like than I am. And I texted her the picture below.

This is a double-dose Monk Moment, so does that mean it qualifies as #7 AND #8?

Obviously the boxes are out of alignment. But that wasn't the first thing I noticed.

Look at the sizes on the boxes (white letters in pink squares). They aren't in order! Come on, people! Who DOES that?

Katydid would have fixed them. And then Kelly, our sweet nurse who got mother-in-law ready for her CT scan today, would have reached in the wrong box because the one she's used to reaching for wouldn't have been where she's used to it being.

I was thoughtful enough not to change them myself.

Monk Moment #5..... and #6......

I took a picture for tonight's Monk Moment blog post, then I was afraid you would be distracted by the obvious dirt on the light switch plate and think THAT was what my Monk Moment was all about.

You silly thing. To think my Monkness would extend to things like dirt and germs. Pshaw.

This is the light switch just inside our front door. The far left switch operates the outside light, the middle one operates the ceiling fan and lights, and the far right one operates all the outlets down the wall of the living room. Including the television and satellite receiver, which take FOREVER to reset themselves if one is stupid enough to inadvertently switch it off while cleaning the light switch plate. Hypothetically speaking.

One (I guess actually two) of the switches stopped working a couple of months ago, and Hubby bought new ones. I'm impressed by anyone who can do household repair jobs like this without calling in an "expert." There aren't many repairs I would feel comfortable doing (but I suppose I could if forced to), and I absolutely abhor doing anything remotely involving electricity.

He bought the new switches, switched them out (I'm hilarious), and everything works as it should.

Except I have to walk past this every day. Several times a day.

I'm sure that, being a man, it never occurred to Hubby to see if they had any beige light switches. If they didn't, it would never have occurred to HIM to replace ALL of them, along with the switch plate face, so that they would match.

Trust me, I'm not going to nitpick.  I won't even let him know I have noticed the difference in color in the switches. I will, however, be forced to get a screwdriver and even up those screw notches now that I've been staring at the picture for a few minutes. That will also have to wait until Hubby is gone, or I risk yet again giving him more evidence that he should have me committed.

For Monk Moment #6, I'm simply going to post the pictures and see if you can guess why this situation causes me to have a Monk Moment. It won't be easy, even for those who know me well.

The pictures aren't very good, so you may need to enlarge them to see the detail that drives me crazy. Leave your guesses in the comments section, and I'll try to respond and let you know if you're on the right track. The first person to guess correctly will win a fabulous prize. Or not.

Monk Moment #4.........

As I've noted here before, I have a few Monk tendencies toward OCD. Nothing that carries over into housekeeping, but a few peculiarities that I won't go into here.

This song has prompted my latest Monk Moment.




I downloaded this version of "Over the Rainbow" because I love the rhythm and the ukelele. I only knew of the song's existence because it was Noel Couch's balance beam music last year. Full disclosure here. It was also sung (beautifully, I might add) at my niece's wedding two weeks ago.

I have a special fondness for "Over the Rainbow." It was the first song I ever sang in public, in the talent show at "Y" camp. It earned me a spot in "The Show" at the end of camp, a showcase to which parents and other family members were invited. In "The Show" I had to dress up in a boy's baseball uniform and sing something called "It's All Right to Cry" (I think).

Of course I also like the song because it's from one of my all-time favorite movies, The Wizard of Oz, the first movie I remember seeing. The Wicked Witch of the West frightened me half to death.

Here are the lyrics to the Judy Garland version, just in case you don't remember them.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow.
Why then, oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?

Note the beautiful rhyme scheme. "Fly" and "I." "High" and "lullaby." "Blue" and "true." 

In the Israel Whatever-the-heck-his-Hawai'ian-name-is version, he mixes up the lyrics to the point that they don't even rhyme.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Blue birds fly
And the dreams that you dreamed of
Dreams really do come true ooh ooooh

What is up with THAT? The lyrics were FINE the way they were. I wish I had never paid attention to how he sings it, because every time it comes on my iPhone when I'm riding my bike now, it drives. me. crazy.


If that weren't bad enough, I'm pretty sure he says "above the CHIMLEY tops."

Yes, I realize you wish you had MY problems.

I'm kind of sorry I brought it up.

Monk Moment #3.........

It has been quite a while since I had a Monk Moment that was worthy of blogging about. If you have never seen the series Monk, you may not know that the lovable character is extremely OCD. To the point that he cannot hold down the job he once loved, but he is still called in on some cases because of his superior powers of observation. The other officers refer to him as the "Defective Detective."

My friend Lawanda the Warrior Princess got me started on Monk. I watched a few episodes, but then I got sidetracked and didn't pick it back up. And I don't watch it on television because naturally I HAVE TO WATCH THE EPISODES IN ORDER. LWP gave me a Monk bobblehead for my desk because she and I share a few of Monk's characteristics. I wish the ones I have would extend to housekeeping, but alas a little clutter is fine with me. When Hubby opens only ONE set of blinds on one of our double windows, however, that is NOT fine. Plates have to be stacked a certain way in the china cabinet, and the flowers have to be pointing in the right direction even in the dishwasher. The bed has to be made every day, and the decorative pillows have to be pointing in the same direction. I only use a certain kind of ink pen, I do NOT loan those out to students (or co-workers), and if I lose the cap to a pen, I throw it away. My dresser drawers are neatly arranged, and everything has its place.

I had a Monk Moment this afternoon when I stopped at Wally World for an eclectic bunch of stuff. (Diapers, doggy pee pads, dog treats, baby shampoo and wash, grapes, a yoga mat, and a veggie tray. The baby stuff and veggie tray are for a baby shower at school tomorrow.)

They restriped the parking lot at our local Wally World not too long ago, and naturally the stripe went right over the sewer cover.

The sewer checker guy, however, is apparently unconcerned about trivialities like stripes, so when he finished HIS job (whatever that is), he just slapped the sewer cover down any old way.

When I told LWP about it on the phone, she asked if I had attempted to pry the cover up and straighten it out. I answered that the thought crossed my mind, but the people who were waiting for me to cross were already perplexed that I stopped in the middle of the crosswalk IN THE RAIN (actually it was sleet) to take a picture.

If only I had Photoshop, I would fix this little problem. At least on my computer.

Just Something Else to Be Obsessive About.......

Throughout my teaching career, I have been notorious for a messy desk. It's not that I LIKE a messy desk; it's just that I like having things near at hand when I need them, and I usually need a multitude of things during the school day.

Copies of syllabi, pacing schedules, attendance rosters, planning forms for students, lists of user names and passwords, attendance cards, tardy slips, signed parent information forms, gradesheets, the list goes on and on.

Below is a picture of my desk on the second day of pre-planning. That's not unusual. I ALWAYS start off the year with a clean desk. I have to clean everything off for the summer school teacher, so it's pretty bare when I start the year.

It rarely lasts more than a day or two. Pretty soon students are laughing about the disaster area that is my desk and swearing that I've lost an assignment or three. (For the record I've never LOST an assignment. Sometimes it takes a while to FIND it, but I've never actually LOST one. Trust me, I have a filing cabinet drawer full of projects and assignments.......some from six years ago, when I taught at A DIFFERENT SCHOOL.)

That's why I find it almost inconceivable that the picture below was taken this afternoon, after THREE COMPLETE WEEKS of school.

The file folders you see next to the printer are for the students in my advisement group. I have filed their signed forms in folders (alphabetical, of course), and I can immediately see who has turned them in and who hasn't. My advisement notebook is in order, complete with transcripts and up-to-date planning forms.

If you look very closely, just to the left of the printer, there is a bobblehead figure of Monk. That is no accident. Lawanda the Warrior Princess gave it to me, because she and I have discussed some of our Monkish tendencies.

I offer the photo below in the spirit of full disclosure, readily acknowledging that I TEND TO BECOME OBSESSIVE about things, ridiculous things.

These are my attendance cards. Your eyes do not deceive you; I do indeed have a student named Mercedes. In fact, I have TWO students named Mercedes, and one Porsha. I swear I'm not making this up.

Notice that each period has a different colored clamp. No big deal. What is a little disturbing is that their placement on each stack of cards is staggered.

Lord. Help. Me.

In a rather weak defense of such obvious mental instability, I will say that if the clamps were all in the same place, they wouldn't fit very nicely in the slots of this little wooden file-card-holder-thingie. I'm still struggling with the fact that there are two slots and I have 5 stacks of cards.

I have been obsessive these three weeks about getting things OFF my desk. That forces me to deal with things immediately, filing them or (usually) giving them to someone else. It has been imperative at the end of the day that my desk be spotless.

If only I could transfer some of that to my house.

Check with me at mid-term for a clean desk update.

Monk Moment #2......

Has anyone else out there noticed a rather disturbing trend lately in the shampoo and conditioner department?

Hello? What do you mean, you don't think about these things? How can you NOT think about them?

I'm not talking about the vast array of products available and how some of them smell like you should be eating them instead of putting them in your hair.


I'm not even talking about the exorbitant prices they charge for something you're just going to wash down the drain, because as you can see, it doesn't bother me one iota to buy the cheap stuff.

Every now and then I go the lazy route and buy a shampoo-and-conditioner-in-one, thereby saving approximately 30 seconds off my morning routine. That's another 30 seconds I can spend reading blogs. Or watching Dancing with the Stars (I have to record it and watch it the next morning.) Or ellipticalating. (I made that word up, but by God I maintained parallel structure.)

My hairdresser, however, said that the shampoo-and-conditioner-in-one products create more build-up (is there a limit to the number of hyphens one can use within a single blog post? How about parenthetical expressions?), so I try to avoid using them except when I'm on bike rides. In those situations, how my hair looks is the least of my worries. How about that sunburn that goes around the middle of my thigh? Or the sunburned face that Sweet Girl calls my raccoon look? Or the attractive bandana I tie around my head to keep the sweat out of my eyes?


So I tend to buy shampoo and conditioner separately, but THEY MUST BE THE SAME BRAND. If a brand has different "flavors," they must also be the same "flavor." And they must be used in equal amounts so that both of them run out at the same time.

I have a bottle of shampoo sitting in my shower right now that has about an inch and a half of shampoo left in it. But the conditioner is gone. That was two shampoo bottles ago. I know I will eventually pour it down the drain, because I don't have any more of the matching conditioner. And I can't just go buy a bottle of conditioner because A) they probably don't have that same kind anymore, because shampoo and conditioner "styles" seem to change with the moon's phases; and B) it would just start a vicious cycle of the shampoo and conditioner amounts NEVER matching, and I'm certain I won't live long enough to see them cycle back to both being empty at the same time.

Why, oh why, do I admit these things about myself?

This, however, is the disturbing trend to which I referred at the beginning of this epitome of journalistic importance.



I realize there's a glare on the picture, and a good blogger and photographer like Pioneer Woman would have performed all kinds of actions to make the picture more attractive. Screw that because A) I don't have the nifty seven-hundred dollar program that Pioneer Woman uses, and if I did I wouldn't know how to use all the actions; and B) I have already spent the better part of tonight NOT packing, NOT reading, NOT crocheting, and NOT playing with my awesome new gadget. Taking the pictures was a stretch, but I realized that without pictures this post would have even less importance than the none it already has.

These bottles are shaped the same. They are the same size and color. They hold approximately the same amount. Why, then, is it necessary to stand one on its bottom and one on its lid?

I could stand them the same, but then one of them would have the words upside-down.

How am I ever going to be able to tell if I'm using them equally each time? I know the bottles appear to be opaque, but if you hold them up to a really bright flashlight and measure to the millimeter, you really can tell how much has been used each time. I'm going to leave it to your imagination as to whether or not I actually do that.

These bottles are going to drive me insane. Insaner?

Maybe I'll take them with me to the Dominican Republic next week and accidentally leave them there.

And next time I'll shop more carefully.

Monk Moment #1..........

If you have ever watched the television series Monk, you will totally understand what I'm talking about. I always knew I had a few of Monk's characteristics in me, but I didn't know what to call them. Except idiosyncrasies. Emphasis on idio. After I started watching recorded episodes of the series (starting at the beginning and proceeding in order, of course), I started NOTICING more and more how many little things I have in common with Monk. I'm not a germophobe, of course, but there are some things that I fixate on and can't seem to let them go. I have determined lately that the degree of control I have over whatever is bothering me determines whether or not I can let go of it. If I can fix it, generally I HAVE to fix it. If it's something I CAN'T fix, then I don't let it bother me.

For example, on the last bike ride that Katydid and I did (that sounds stupid, doesn't it?), we rode by the same building twice a day three days in a row. In the front window of this building, the blinds were askew. You know what I mean, one slat out of line and therefore showing a gap. Someone on the INSIDE of that building really should have fixed that blind. But since it was the weekend, and the building was closed, I couldn't fix the blind myself. So I shrugged it off and forgot about it. [Side note: If it had been a weekday, and that window had been in a public room, and I had been able to get in there, I probably would have fixed it.]

Monday night we went to a seminar about laser vision surgery. There was a whiteboard on which the presentation was to be displayed. There were Expo markers and an eraser in the marker-and-eraser-holder underneath the whiteboard. I'm sure it has a real name; in the old days it would have been the chalk tray, but who uses chalk anymore?

The eraser in the tray was dead center relative to the whiteboard. So far so good. There were twelve markers, an even number. Getting better. There were six markers on one side of the eraser and six markers on the other. Nearly perfect. ONE OF THE MARKERS ON THE RIGHT WAS FACING THE WRONG WAY. I looked at that marker; looked at hubby; looked at that marker; looked at hubby. Hubby looked puzzled. I whispered, "I'm having a Monk moment." Just as I was about to get up and turn the marker around, the doctor came in to start the seminar. I think hubby was relieved.