I tend to worry a bit a lot a stupid amount.  I am the sort of person who, if I get a few miles from my house and think that I may have left my straighteners on, I have to turn back to check (happily, living opposite Sister 2 reduces the incidence of this as I frequently call her to pop over to check for me.  Thank you Sister1).

Last week, the day RobRoyRon had fixed my water tank, I was finally in bed.  I’d wanted an early night but Norman had bought in a mouse and we’d spent an hour trying to persuade it out from under my bed.  There were five hours before by alarm was due to go off, but a thought crept in my head that I’d not actually checked to make sure the fixing had worked.  And if it hadn’t, the house would flood.  So at 11.30pm I was getting out my ladder to climb into the loft ‘just to check’.

I check a lot so I don’t worry (that kind of makes sense in my head).  I just wrote out the things I do before I leave the house, but I realised it makes me sound rather loopy, so let’s just say I have a touch of OCD.

I also have ‘things’ I do because it makes things feel more ‘right’.  One is to not eat yellow sweets.  That’s why the other day I discovered these all lurking in mostly empty sweet bags in my desk:

I used to give them to my team, but when one of them broke a tooth on a midget gem, I felt a bit responsible…

Anyway, yesterday a colleague walked past my desk looking rather poorly.  I asked if she was ok, and she said she thought she was going to faint.  I whipped out my sweets and offered her the bag so she could up her sugar levels.  The bag only contained yellow ones.  It was slightly awkward when she asked why – ‘they are evil so I can’t eat them’ seemed like a short track to a visit with occupational health.  My ‘what a coincidence!’ didn’t seem very convincing, but I think her sugar levels were still a bit low as she didn’t question it.

Either that, or I bamboozled her with the other food I could offer – mints, porridge, a pack of toffee crisps, granola….  I realise most people use desk drawers at work for, well work.  But you never know when the canteen, vending machines and all the shops two minutes away may simultaneously run out of food.  I’m thinking I need to get this worrying thing a bit more under control.  But then what would I offer the next fainting colleague that passes?  :o)