organizedOf course, part of managing my flavor of OCD involves keeping my tracking detailed, dependable, and most of all, consistent. Which is why I depend on Franklin-Covey's planner refills to keep me from snapping and killing everyone in an unformatted rage. Only there's one small problem:
Since they unexpectedly redesigned the "Blooms" planner pages in 2005, I've insisted on going to the Franklin-Covey store in person, to be sure that what I'm getting is something I can actually use. And both California stores have been closed in the last year, resulting in great dismay and sorrow on my part.
Enter salvation, in the form of Washington, and Ryan. Because there is still one store—one beautiful, wonderful store—in Redmond. It opens at ten on Saturday mornings. Which is why, at nine-fifteen, Ryan picked me up and drove me to that glorious wonderland I often refer to as "the OCD porn store."
On the way, we saw a bald eagle. Just sitting there. Being the stone-dumb symbol of our country. DUDE WHAT THE FUCK. I mean, seriously.
Finding the store was easy, and we were the first ones there, probably because we were actually there before they opened. The manager on duty was a friendly, well-groomed blonde woman, originally from California, who said we were lucky to have come when we did, as the store will probably be closing in January. My heart broke a little. While I can understand that high-end planner products are probably more economically sold online, I always spend more in the physical stores, because I can put my hands on things, and really understand why I might need them.
Case in point: a deeply discounted orange leather purse. I opened it. I peered inside. I commented on all the pockets.
"I can put my planner in here," I said.
"Yes," said Ryan.
"I can put my Netbook in here," I said.
"Yes," said Ryan.
"I can put Alice in here," I said.
"Maybe," said Ryan.
"What's an Alice?" asked the manager.
"My cat," I said.
Ryan produced his iPhone, and produced a picture, which we showed to the manager.
"Holy crap," said the manager.
I bought the purse.
It was a glorious morning, filled with victory (and later, with pancakes). We even saw the eagle again, flying over the water, looking for breakfast. I mourn for the loss of the OCD porn store, where I never feel odd at all, just really, really efficient. And Alice does, in fact, fit inside my purse.
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November 17 2010, 18:29:26 UTC 6 years ago
With OCD*, it is time to roll a will save against a complete meltdown, complete with all the embarrassing public crying/screaming/gnashing of teeth/hair-pulling that is entailed in a complete meltdown.
(Reportedly. I am lucky enough to not have it myself, but I have a few friends, and yeah.)