His OCD

I thought I had written an entry on this topic before, but I couldn't find it. Perhaps I mentioned it in my thoughts or notes, but everyone says it is worth its own entry so here goes. My husband is the greatest except when it comes to his little idiosyncrasies which include clutter around the house, uncharged telephones, and missing remotes. Several months ago Darcy interrupted our TV viewing to have us look at some school video project. Because we have Apple TV I suggested we put it up on the television instead of watching it on her Ipad. Wrong thing to have said.

To turn on the Apple TV we needed the remote. Which was not in the basket that sits on the end table between our two couches and houses all of our 1,000 remotes. Immediately, the feathers sprung out of my husband's back and ruffled.

Tom: "Who took the remote?"

Me: "Why do you always say that? Who took the remote? Took it where?"

Tom: "That's the question now isn't it? Who took the remote and where did they take it? It isn't here in the basket where it should be. I didn't do anything with it."

Darcy, who was wanting us to just give her some quick critiquing of her project and who didn't have time for her dad's obsessive compulsion, went into the Steelers room and returned with the Apple remote for our other Apple television. Wrong again. The ruffled feathers on my husband's back immediately became razor sharp and he was on his feet in an instant.

Tom: "No Darcy! No. Put that back! That is not the remote for this TV. Find the remote! Find the remote for this TV. Where did you put it? What did you do with it?"

Darcy attempted to reason with him. She explained that she just needed for us to watch this video because she needed some help and it was due in thirty minutes. She would look for the remote after she turned in the homework assignment. She might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

Tom: "Find the remote! Where is it? What did you do with it?"

Darcy: "Why am I the only one you're accusing? Why is it always me that you think lost it?"

Tom: "Because you are always watching TV."

Darcy: "Not in this room. I'm in the Steelers room. That's my TV in there. And this is the remote for that TV and it isn't lost. And it will control this Apple TV so that you can watch this video."

Tom: "We aren't watching anything until we find the remote. Go find the remote!"

I remarked that it was most likely in the cushions of one of the couches and he immediately shooed Madison off of the couch. He began lifting the cushions one by one searching for the aloof remote control. When that produced no results he made me get off of the other couch and he repeated his actions with that one. Nothing. Still not satisfied he began walking around the room checking into every little nook and cranny that a remote might fit; inside the piano bench, on top of the grandfather clock, by the front door, hidden in drawers. The entire time he kept up a running rant.

Tom: "The remote goes into the basket. How hard is that? I'm so tired of everyone losing this remote. It isn't hard people. Use the remote and put it back. Put it back! It goes in the basket where all of the other remotes go."

After awhile of no success his rant turned ugly. He made comments if he found dust bunnies while on his hands and knees checking under the piano. He called us names when he found wrappers or empty cups. Darcy retreated to her bedroom in tears. I disappeared to take a shower. Madison sat on the couch offering him wisdom and trying hard not to laugh. When I returned from my shower, I found every couch cushions slung around the living room. Madison was sitting on the floor rolling her eyes, my couch was standing on one end, and Tom, armed with scissors, was cutting off the bottom lining to the couch. He was still ranting.

I went into the Steelers room and stood looking around. I did that for ten seconds and then I walked over to Darcy's desk, lifted up a stack of books, and found the remote under them. I took it in to my husband who accused me of bringing him the remote from the Steelers room. I had to produce both remotes and even then he wasn't satisfied. He continued to cut the lining until it was totally off and he could collect the various items that had fallen inside the couch; coins, wrappers, crumbs, barrettes, pens, pencils, hair ties, brushes, etc. Then he turned over the love seat and proceeded to try to reach his hand inside the lining on that one to bring forth any fallen items. His big find that evening was some missing headphones and an old remote control.

To solve any issues regarding the remote Madison downloaded remote apps on our phones (hers and mine) so we could control the TV with our phones if ever we found ourselves in a lost remote predicament again. Which of course I did. Last week. I was happily using my phone to control the television when Tom joined me on the couch. I had paused my program while he was talking and somewhere in his conversation he annoyed me and I got defensive. He chuckled and told me it was easy to get me going. Easy to push my buttons.

Oh, yeah? I causally asked him what he had done with the remote as it was missing.

Tom: "What? Where is it? Are you serious? The remote is missing? Who took it? Who used it? Who lost it?"

And then this happened:

It was deja vu. Off came the cushions. Over went the couches. Out came the ranting and raving. I happily snap chatted it all with Madison who laughed and laughed. Elliot was eating all of the crumbs that kept falling out of the couch, and Tom was trying to stop him from eating them while holding on to the couch so it wouldn't crush the dog. I went off to shower. I'll show you who can push buttons, buddy.

When I returned Tom was gleefully lying on the couch waving two remotes in his hands. He had found the television remote that we never use since we have a universal cable remote and he had found the Apple TV remote. He was a very happy man. We put everything back and settled back down on the couches, all of the remotes tucked neatly into the basket.

Tom: "I guess I am pretty funny when I get like this, huh?"

Me: "Until you really lose it."

Tom: "Well, how hard is it to put the remote back in the basket? Why can't people do that? Why...."

And he was off again....