I Hate Having to Apologize for Being Crazy

I’ll admit it. I have OCD tendencies. There are some things that I need done a certain way, and if they aren’t done…panic attack central.

CLUTTERED DESK

One of those things is the bagging of the groceries. I need to bag my own groceries. I need them bagged a particular way that makes sense to me…by me.

Trader Joes? They’re totally cool with it, but I still have to explain myself.  Jewel? They know me and I’m pretty sure they make fun of me when I leave.

(You know, on that note, it’s actually funny to think about some of the stories I used to tell about regulars at my service jobs…and how I’ve likely become one of the stories… the crazy lady that won’t let anyone touch her groceries.)

Anyway…it sucks. That I have to apologize for being crazy. Every. Single. Time.

Let me repeat that.

I have to apologize for having something wrong with my brain. The same something that probably makes me a creative genius. I digress.

Yesterday, Brian and I went to a Fresh Market…and I was almost refused my request. The girl started bagging my stuff and I said, I NEED to bag my own groceries. And she told me no. She told me she couldn’t. And I told her, that she HAD to. At which point, I have to tell her that I’m OCD and I’ll have a panic attack. And she argued with me. ARGUED!

“Well, the owner is here and we have to do it.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m crazy, and you can tell them that I wouldn’t let you.”

“But…”

“PLEASE.”

“Okay…”

And then when she was done ringing me up, she tried again.

“Can I at least bag some of your groceries?”

“No. I’m SORRY. I’m really really really sorry.”

Seriously. I get it. You have rules that you have to follow. But you make exceptions for people. You have to. Because if you don’t…I don’t care that you carry my favorite cheeses or a plethora of fruits and vegetables that make me joyful. Don’t. Care. You let me bag my own groceries, dammit. And don’t make me apologize more than once.

This rant has been brought to you by my very patient boyfriend. Who puts up with my incessant need to bag my own groceries.

Everyone’s got a little bit of crazy in them…what’s your brand of crazy?

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