Monday, April 18, 2011

A little OCD isn't a bad thing...right?

I worked most of my professional career in the Human Services, with the Emotionally Disturbed and Mentally Ill. Believe me, I know EXACTLY how close we all are to sliding into one of those DSM IV classifications...

I routinely find myself knocking on the OCD door. I can get caught up in the minutia and ritual of certain chores. Like picking the garbage pile. Not a garbage pile we started or contribute to - it was part of the package when we bought the place. Apparently, the former owners found it acceptable to toss all sorts of household, automobile, construction and farm trash over the hill. The fact that practically none of it was biodegradeable (forget safe) seemed not to matter.

We hauled 15 huge truckloads out of here when we first moved in. (Back when we had access to a dumpster.) Now, we have to take smaller runs to the local transfer station, or "go commando" and drop off bits and pieces in public trash cans. To mark our achievement and progress, we planted a border of daffodils back there, to mark the "edge" and to put something pretty and growing in a place that used to be dismal and trashy.

That doesn't stop the picking, though. Every few days, I find myself wandering back there to corral wayward chickens or dump some leaves and I catch the glint of metal, the sparkle of glass shards, or the garish color swatch of some plastic jug just peeking out of the soil. I can't leave it alone. I can't return to the homestead side of the daffodils and pretend it's not there. Nope. I'm too compulsive, or the urge to clean too strong, or something. I pick.

Today's haul:
It all started innocently enough with a walk back to take a photo for the header, and that tip of pipe just winked at me...and there you have it.

Better get back to my scheduled project - the one where I can't part with last Fall's decorations, and I sit and hand shuck 40 little ears of Indian corn for turkey feed.

I'm OK, really. I can walk away. Really. Just watch me. Here I go....walking away. Off to weed the potato patch. Or trim the rose briars. Or....pick some more trash?

8 comments:

Michelle said...

I'm laughing here, Sis, 'cause as twins we are soooo much alike. BTW, you ARE taking all the metal stuff to a metal buyer, aren't you? A lot of that stuff will bring you cold, hard CASH!

Gayle said...

That trash heap would drive me nuts, too, but sometimes we just have to pick our battles. We have piles, too, but I don't have enough time to get to them all. Hope you find the bottom of it one day soon.

Susan said...

It's fascinating, in a weird way, isn't it? And I'm with Michelle - even my dairy farmer neighbor is hauling metal off the farm - and that stuff has been 'aging' for years!

LindaG said...

Good luck with that. We don't have a hill, but we've hauled and have still to haul, several loads of trash.

We have a dump we can take it to. It's worth the small cost (per ton).
And the metal is taken to a recycler. We don't get rich, but if it's enough for dinner, we're happy.

We have done the commando route, too. ;)

DayPhoto said...

No it isn't! I get there also on stuff that others just don't see the reason to be there on! Like wrinkles in the bedsheets!

Linda
http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com

melanie said...

The closest metal buyer is an hour away by car (Schenectady or Albany) so I'd have to have a lot to make that trip worthwhile with gas at $4 a gallon...

So, I settle for bringing it to the municipal transfer station that sorts and recycles as much as they possibly can. At least I FEEL better about what we're digging up...

Elysbeth said...

Funny how we all have something that just sets us off. MUST DO something about it. When 19 minutes ago...it didn't even exist.

Chicken Mama said...

"I routinely find myself knocking on the OCD door."

Do you knock, then wash your hands, then knock again, then wash your hands, then knock again, then wash . . .

Sorry, couldn't resist a little (very little?!) OCD humor! ;)