paperwork panic attack.

I am a self-diagnosed control freak, organizational freak, OCD, with slight ADD tendendcies.

This means a few things for me:
1. I like things the way I like them. Not the way you like them.
2. I hang all my clothes in the same direction in the closet. I use the same brand of fabric softener, year in and year out. I systematically rotate shampoos so I get a nice mix of volumizing, cleansing, moiturizing, and color protecting.
3. I don't like being touched. Especially in public or when its hot outside.

These are just a few of the quirks that come along with my somewhat rigid personality. Granted, I grew up in a nomadic-evangelical-pack-rat-garage-saling family, so I had some semblance of flexibility beaten into me. And, for that I am thankful.

But, this is what I simply do not understand about my organizational tendencies: I have a crippling fear of paperwork. Mostly paperwork in the form of bills. But I also hate traffic tickets, any sort of contestment, bank statements, credit card applications, credit statements, loan payments, insurance papers, etc. I HATE THEM ALL. Rather than deal with my paperwork like a normal OCD person, I simply let it pile up on my desk -- and I let it sit there and haunt me for as long as I can possibly stand it. I won't open the envelopes because I fear whatever horrible news is waiting for me inside. There is NEVER good news inside of those envelopes.

Needless to say, I set out to take care of those nasty little envelopes today. And I found some real gems. A court contestment for the seatbelt ticket I got in Oregon. A bill for a Loretta Lynn CD from my CD club I supposedly recived at the Fullerton house while I was living in Oregon (I told you, I let this stuff PILE up), a few months of bank statments to be opened and filed, and my new loan payment information. There was lots more, but I won't bore you anymore with these details...

I don't feel much better now that I have opened them and written the corresponding checks. I just feel poor. But, I also feel a wave of relief. I did it! I tackled the pile. Now, I get to wait for the next set of mail to arrive and the crippling panic to rise out of my gut and into my chest as I stare at the stack of unopened envelopes on my desk.

I think I should start praying now that my husband will be a paperwork whiz. because, otherwise, I am screwed.