OCD Overdose

Prim & proper, the lady walks in the door
Notices a speck of dust on the floor
Oh my God, she shrieks, I can’t take it any more
What’s next I wonder, what’s in store

Fingerprints on the polish drive her up the wall
A spill on the kitchen counter, what gall
Not a stain anywhere, nothing at all
Everything arranged upright, erect, standing tall

Front lawn, backyard, not one single fallen leaf
Anything out of place is cause for grief
An errant blade of grass growing scatty
Makes her go completely batty

How the dirty dishes stack, arranging of the spice rack
Nothing, but nothing, can be out of whack
All the labels must be facing out
Of that let there not be any doubt

All the bottles neatly in a row
Containers organised exactly so
To stir the pot, always go clockwise
Kitchenware arranged left to right, going up in size

Pepper ground medium-fine, not too coarse
Eggs boiled soft only, for better or for worse
Toast, browned to setting No. 3
And jam, two light dabs of blueberry

A spot of sugar, no more, no less
And no drips please, it’s such a mess
A constant state of high-stress hyperness
When over trivialities she starts to obsess

Newspaper unfolded, upturned page
Her blood pressure goes off the gauge
That vase over there once boasted bright pink roses
Sigh! they all died of the lady’s neuroses

The TV remote where it belongs
No, no, no, you’re doing it all wrong
All dollar bills arranged in sequence
Coins in their compartment, anything but, is nonsense

The laundry basket besides the dryer
Toolbox goes hammer, nails, screwdriver then pliers
Shoes laid out in the perfect line
Matching skirts and tops stacked up just fine

And when you put out the clothes on the line
Damn well ensure all the pegs precisely align
Never chuck things onto the bed
Without the dear lady seeing red

The sheets tucked in tight exactly at the crease
If she sees as much as a wrinkle, Oh Jeez
Pillows should have the right amount of fluff
Good enough is not perfect enough

The toothbrush must be correctly angled
Otherwise her nerves get jangled
Should the soap dish be an inch out of place
That leads to a sure furrowed face

Seventeen times a day, washing of the hands
More than once every waking hour, do you understand
Never a strewn towel or wet basin
Never a minute-old used tissue not in the bin

Glue is messy, therefore cellotape
Don’t tear if off, use scissors, it must be ship-shape
Have you dotted the i’s, crossed the t’s
God help you if you missed one and she sees

She’s an otherwise good lady, I do confess
If just this one illness she were to address
Not go overboard, find her balance
A less tense, more easy-going countenance

Oh, trust me, I also believe in ordinary order
But she, she’s way across the border
No telling when she’ll next be annoyed
When 100 things get her paranoid

I believe they say it’s some kind of disease
Can someone help me, step forward please
Ah, found it, it’s here in the dictionary
Three letters, reading O…C…D…