I might be one of the most OCD people you’ll meet. You won’t see it on the outside. My office looks like a tornado just blew through it at any given moment. In fact, I’m writing this from my similarly-decorated bedroom, since my home office currently smells strongly of wood stain (hey, thanks, younger-brother-home-from-college. One word: ventilation).
So no, you may not see the OCD on the surface. But once you take a peek at my alphabetized and cross-referenced DVD collection, my perfectly alphabetized and lined-up book collection, or how I follow the same steps every morning to get breakfast and start work, you’ll start to see the crazy. If you know me in real life, perhaps you’ve even seen my attention wander during a conversation. I’m not ignoring you- there’s just a really interesting sign behind you and I have to mentally rearrange the words and letters so it’s right. Just give me a sec. I’m still listening, I swear.
So yes, there’s a certain level of oddity about me. I’ve come to accept that, and even embrace it at times. For example, I am prepared for every contingency. You name it, I’ve got a plan. I can even prove it.
Contingencies For Which I Have A Viable Plan
Unemployment: No big deal. I’ve got a diversified portfolio in the job market (I can’t claim credit for that gem of a description. That comes from one of my church’s elders. It’s my new favorite phrase. You may be seeing it a lot). Working five part-time jobs means I can lose a few and still have money coming in. Status: prepared.
Financial Emergency: I’m set for two full months of expenses if I’m rendered totally unable to work, four months of expenses if I’m only able to work half my usual hours, and six months of expenses if I stop paying on my student loans (which I can do without penalty until 2015. That’s an unexpected bonus of paying off loans early). Emergency Funds are your friend, people. You should seriously have one. Status: prepared.
Medical Emergency: If it’s someone else’s emergency, I’m trained in CPR, first aid, and basic water rescue techniques. I’ve been working with kids for over a decade, including a stint at a skating rink, so I’ve pretty much seen it all: broken bones, allergic reactions, the odd impalement or two, even a few gnarly head wounds. If someone else is bleeding, I’ve got it covered. Now, if it’s my medical emergency, I’ve got health insurance and an emergency fund. Both kept me from going completely broke after a car accident in 2010, and both kept me from losing a lot of money when I was sick a few months ago. I’m also pretty cool with the sight of my own blood. I’ve seen it enough, to which my co-workers can probably attest. (Related- sorry about that, co-workers). Status: prepared.
Sugar Emergency: My blood sugar can go up and down faster than a Six Flags roller coaster (the really fast kind, not the kiddie coasters, just to be clear). When it’s down, I’m not always a pleasant person. As such, I’ve developed a contingency plan: Operation SUGAR (Sweets Under Guise As Required, which kind of makes sense if you don’t think about grammar or syntax too much). There is a candy store within 100 feet of one of my jobs. For the others, both offices have hidden candy reserves. No, I won’t tell you where they are. Yes, I will probably share. Status: prepared.
Snuggle Emergency: No, I haven’t been gnawed on by a zombie. I mean a real snuggle- the kind that doesn’t involve any brain-chewing. Sometimes, you just need a snuggle. For those times, I have this:
Zombie Emergency: Speaking of zombies, you’ll be relieved to hear that I have a plan for this contingency too. First, track down my roommate’s two brothers, codenames: Mountain Man and Thanatos (There’s not really any significance behind Thanatos- I just think it’s an awesome code name). Second, stay behind Mountain Man and Thanatos at all times. End plan. Seriously- those two are like every History Channel & Discovery Channel reality show combined. If the zombies are coming for you, come find me and the boys. Oh, and bring candy. Status: prepared beyond belief.
Undead Emergency: I’ve been watching a lot of training films on this topic, and I believe I’ve developed a fool-proof vampire repellent for each species. For the brooding Brad Pitt type, you throw a starving yet adorable orphan in their path. They will become so focused on saving the poor child that you’ll be able to make your escape. The same principal works for the glittery type, as long as you substitute a brooding teenage girl for the orphan. As for the maniacal Tom Cruise type, well, you’re pretty much out of luck on that one. There’s no escape from the maniacal Tom Cruise type of vampire. Status: prepared, except in the case of Tom Cruise.
Like I said, I have a plan for everything. Except for Tom Cruise. But to that I do have to ask: can anyone really have a good contingency plan for Tom Cruise?
Think on that til Thursday, folks.