Obsessive Compulsive Little Me
Nothing was ever going to displace my obsession for painting in my mind.
A joyfulness I had never experienced before entered my soul realm when
I finished my first giant canvas, a mere week after my 9-year-old granddaughter
who was obviously a lot more knowledgeable than I about me, had goaded me
into “trying to paint”.
I finished 250 canvases in the first two years, but alas, when you are me, and
things get boring at new jobs within twenty minutes, how could even this compel
me at the rapidly moving pace my mind is craving?
When do you think you will tire of those word games? My husband dares to whisper. I
glare at him from my Lazy-Girl, two dangerously hot I-pads on my lap. I am in the throes
of playing Word Chums and Words with Friends, and I know I will be here, in this stupor,
not in the least bit satisfied for at least two more hours.
I stumbled upon Poetry Soup’s website ten months ago when I was bored. I discovered
All Poetry.com three weeks ago. I have almost three hundred followers if you count both
sites, and real poets, not imaginary ones, not cyber-poets, but real poets who know how to
write poetry are being more than a bit nice to me on both sites.
Since I hate math and biology, and loathe geometry, they will not be my next compulsions.
Whatever is, will have my full attention, much like my demanding husband, who is pouting
like a 4-year-old tonight has had for many, many years. I look up from my I-pads to glare at
He-Who-Used-To-Be-My-Everything-But-Is-Slowing-Me-Down-Taking-Me-Away-From-My-
Obsessions. How dareth he maketh noise? Welcome to the weird, un-wonderful world
of the Obsessive Compulsive Personality.
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