Obsessive

Most of the time he was able to cope with his condition.

In fact, his obsessive-compulsive disorder gave him a sense of everything being right. His insistence on things, mainly objects around the house, in the bathroom, the bedroom, the lounge, the kitchen, in fact, all over the house, being properly set out and each in their correct place gave him enormous comfort. For him, the symmetry and order that this created provided him with a constant sense of harmony. When objects were in there predetermined and proper place they brought about a desperately needed structure in his life.

On the subject of things being in their proper place, he was most disappointed when he went to the fridge and found that he had no milk! No milk meant no wake-me-up coffee first thing in the morning. No wake-me-up coffee meant that he would have very little chance of fully waking up. Knowing that unless he went out and bought milk, he’d spend the rest of the day wandering around like a zombie.

He got dressed, grabbed his keys and wallet and went to leave. It was part of his going-out ritual to count the variety of sea shells, arranged in a specific alignment, that sat along a set of seven narrow shelves by the front door. He stopped and started counting. At the same time he noted each one’s relative position. The shells went from small to large, but were not laid out as such. In fact, their sequence with regards to both size, shape and colour was deliberately random.

He counted eighty-four. No, he thought, that’s not right, and counted them again. This time they came to eighty-five. Still not convinced, he began again, very slowly. As he did, he felt beads of sweat building up on his forehead and at the back of his neck. He mopped himself with his handkerchief. This time he made it eighty two! Had any of them fallen? He checked the floor; nothing. He stood blinking at the rows of shells, feeling a faintness coming on. He decided to take a shower.

When he returned, feeling a lot better, he counted them again. Eighty-six! He stood for a while thinking. The shops… it was too far to walk, and he didn’t feel safe driving.

He sighed. He’d shop tomorrow.

He’d drink his coffee black.