Inflatable Sheep

I was reading about Sherry's delusions which got me thinking about any cherished delusions I may have about myself.

My main delusion is that I'm easy-going, laidback. I can be, but that's not my natural state. I've noticed it more since John and I separated and I have the house to myself. There's more than a little of my mother in me. I like my house-my car-my life to be all neat and tidy. A place for everything and everything in its place.

Okay, so that makes me a twee bit anal. I try to keep it under control. Really. I try to refrain from lining up the rugs with the tile lines on the floor about 50 percent of the time. I try to let a dirty dish stay in the sink for a couple of hours. I try to not line up all my books in perfect alignment a half-inch from the edge of the book shelf.

I suppose its roots stem ultimately from my attempt to retain some kind of control over life. My things are neat = my life is manageable. I try to relax. Really. I watch the water sprinkler, I crochet, I play with Teddy and Oscar, but underlying it all is that electric wire that hums through me, that never lets me completely relax.