I spent a long time this evening trying to organize the disaster known as my tear sheets (basically, just the pages I tear from magazines because I find them inspiring or interesting or useful).  I read so many magazines that I have pages and pages and pages of tear sheets, and - despite several attempts - I have yet to find a successful way to organize them.  For a slightly obsessive-compulsive soul such as myself, the disorder drives me crazy!  Fortunately, I think I've hit upon the solution ... hence tonight's activity.  It's so fun going back through the tear sheets because it's almost a stroll down memory lane.  I remember when I tore out a house by so-and-so, or when a certain type of product was just hitting the market, or why something struck me a certain way.  All of this is to say that I stumbled across a column by Dominique Browning, the editor-in-chief of our dearly departed House & Garden.  Oh, how I miss that magazine!  I always loved Dominique's columns, but this particular one really hit home.  See, when I say I am slightly obsessive-compulsive, maybe I should just say that I can be really particular about things.  Reference my earlier posts about attention to detail!!  Everything has to be just so, or I feel off.   When I read this column, however, I decided that my problem is not that I suffer from OCD, but instead that I suffer from design-obsessive-disorder!  So enjoy this little excerpt ... and my own confessions ... 

"I've come to realize that the design obsessed are a different breed of cat.  I'd put myself in the 'mild' range, diagnostically speaking - though certain people who have had to contend with my urge to reupholster and rearrange their furniture might vehemently disagree.  But you should see what life is like for the truly afflicted.  Four A.M. [online] shopping trips for gueridons don't even put you in contention.  The design obsessed leave no stone unturned - literally.  Everything, and I mean everything, must be just so.  This means that the breakfast table is set with an interesting mix of gorgeous china; that the coffee cup, if that is the object with which your day starts, is exactly the correct shape for soothing the hand and holding the heat; that the morning playlist streaming from the iPod fits the mood of the day; that the bath oil for the morning soak comes in a streamlined bottle, so that the tub's ledge doesn't have that clinical CVS look; that your jewelry on the vanity table is arranged in a seductive way; that the family schedule is displayed in an elegant and readable manner; and that, when you finally get yourself out the front door (painted just the right shade of muddy green you see in France), the car you drive - which, by the way, happens to be the largest and most important accessory in front of your house - speaks to your aesthetic sensibility both in terms of looks and efficiency.  And that's just a superficial glance at what life is like before 7 A.M. ... Pity the design obsessed.  It is hard for us to understand how much it hurts them, literally, to see poorly articulated road signs, or badly appointed restaurants, or ugly storefronts."  

- Dominique Browning

Here's how I knew that this was speaking to me.  I have practically laser-level vision and it really, really bothers me if a painting is crooked.  My picture frames and objets (yes, I used the French on purpose) are placed at a certain angle, and I can tell if they have been moved.  I use a tape measure to make sure a pair of lamps on a buffet is exactly the same distance in from the end of the buffet.  When my twin boys were small, I had their daily schedule printed in baby blue ink and placed in a large silver frame on the kitchen counter so everyone knew exactly when they were supposed to be doing what.  I refuse to consider certain shampoo brands because I find their packaging to be so offensive.  I could go on, but I'll spare you further detail.  So what do you think ... should I seek professional help?