Hot Pockets and Number OCD, Part 2 (The Number OCD Part)

Before reading this you might want to buckle your seat belt, or at least put a helmet on or something, because we are about to go deep into the recesses of my mind and explore the mystery-enshrouded brain hiccup that I like to call Number OCD.  Are you ready?  Hold on tight to something.  I assure you, the ride will be bumpy.  

Anyone who has ever ridden in my car with me has most likely experienced this particular quirk, and if you have ever tried to touch the volume on my radio you have surely had your hand slapped away/been subject to a raving, nonsensical lecture.  My car radio is sacred ground, and the biggest manifestation of my weirdness.  

The way it works is that there is a turny button for the volume, and a digital display that tells you the number of the volume level.  The volume is pre-set to 25, which means that whenever I turn my car on, no matter what the volume was set to when I turned it off, it starts at 25.  This is a perfect number because it is half of 50.  I can’t tell you why that’s perfect, I just know that it is.  It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.  Kind of like how you feel when you're looking at a box of kittens.   

Anyway, 25 is not nearly loud enough.  Never mind the fact that I could just change the setting so that it’s pre-set to a higher volume.  I’ve thought of that before, but it came to me set at 25 and that’s the way it shall stay.  So I always have to turn it up, and here’s where it gets weird.    

Do you remember the scene in Monty Python and The Holy Grail when they find the Holy Hand Grenade?  And do you remember what it says in the Book of Armaments?  Let me give you a little refresher:

"First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin, then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out.”

That’s kind of what it’s like in my mind.  The number of the volume in my car should ideally end in a five or zero.  A number ending in a two, four, six or eight is acceptable, but not preferred.  Of the four acceptable numbers, six is the least preferred because six is only one number away from five and why would you turn it to six when five is RIGHT THERE?  I realize that four is also one number away from five, but it’s less than five so that’s okay.  Having five as your next higher volume option is fine.  But there’s no excuse for turning it only one past five.  If you’re going to go past five, please have the decency to go further than one click.  What makes six acceptable is the fact that it’s an even number, otherwise it would be stricken from the list.  You should get down on your knees and thank God for your easy divisibility, Six.  It is the only thing saving your bacon.

Under no circumstances may numbers that end in one, three, seven or nine be used.  One and nine because they are too close to zero and why wouldn’t you just turn it to zero, and three and seven because they are right in between two even numbers - either of which would be vastly preferable to the odd number between them unless that odd number is five - so there’s no reason to leave it on three or seven.   

There are other, smaller ways in which my Number OCD comes out, but I think I’ve done enough damage with these few paragraphs.  And Number OCD is not the only type of OCD that I have.  Don’t even get me started on colors.  (Just ask my mother about how every time we play Trivial Pursuit I have to take all the colored wedges that she has haphazardly shoved into her playing piece with no regard whatsoever for the natural order of the world, and put them back in rainbow order.  It drives her crazy when I do that.)  

Symmetry is very important to me as well.  I was unable to watch any of the coverage of the Inaugural Ball for fear I might see the First Lady, who unfortunately had chosen for her dress that night a gown that only had one shoulder strap.  You have two shoulders, Mrs. Obama.  Why would anyone choose a dress with one shoulder strap?  Why?  (For that matter, why would anyone make a dress with one shoulder strap?)

So now you guys know I’m crazy.  That's not nearly all, but it's enough.  It is now safe to remove the helmets/seatbelts/harnesses.  The ride has come to a full and complete stop.