I am a self-diagnosed OCD perfectionist. I am sure I may fall short of the actual medical requirements but if spending your life feeling like a loopy headcase is enough then I most definitely qualify.
In line with this behaviour I agonise over what's for dinner each night. True. Some friends (you know who you are) may argue that it's simply because house-wifery is dead boring and I obviously have nothing better to worry about. What with everyone else breaking their noggins over world peace and the state of the National Health System, I feel I can leave well enough alone. But alas, dinner is one of my top frets.
When I do the weekly shop I break the week down into meals and try to shop accordingly.
When I open my wee lids each morning, one of my first thoughts is "what's for dinner?". Forget the need to be thankful that another beautiful day has dawned and I am alive.
When I'm at a mates' having a cuppa I wonder what's for dinner.
When we're eating dinner, I ask his majesty what he wants for dinner tomorrow.
And if his majesty surprises us all and arrives with dinner then it really throws me off kilter. It takes me days for my mental menu to get back on track.
What's for dinner, what's for dinner, what's for dinner?!!??!?!?!??!
Tonight it was crust less tuna pie......very yummy. And tomorrow its pork steaks with roasted veg and tatters. Just in case you were wondering.
I am I the only daft fool who does this?
I gingerly add that I also worry that none of the "black" in my wardrobe matches. Life is too short some may say but unfortunately this is how I am wired.
