Ahhh, the Holidays are finally here. Picture yourself wrapped tightly in a chair next to the fire, sipping hot chocolate while you gently bob your head to the sweet serendipity of Mariah as you imagine all that you want for Christmas. Until you see it… the stocking, third from the left; it’s crooked.

Like a superhero you dramatically swoop your blanket from your lap and leap into action. The art of stockings is no joke. All seven stockings must be coordinated into a pattern and evenly strewn over the fireplace, it’s like the 3^rd most important rule of Christmas. You readjust the stocking, but now you realize Jackie’s on the end seems droopy, and the only logical solution is to take them all down and start over. Two hours, a level, measuring tape, and 27 holes in the wall later and you’re pleased with your work. At least for now.

You sit down to relax after the trauma you endured from the stocking mishap, only to notice a gap in the tree… A GAP. Everyone knows that the rules of tree decorating are simple and finite; all branches must be separated and lights evenly woven, and ornaments must be placed the same distance from one another with no two colors adjacent to each other. To fix the gap, you must use a red ornament, BUT THAT RUINS THE WHOLE PATTERN. The tree is the focal point of everything, it can’t be flawed, so what do you do? You take a deep breath, a shot of something strong, and you fix that damn tree if it’s the last thing you do. It’s now midnight, and your relaxing evening has left you disheveled, your holiday spirit dwindling like the candle that’s fighting to stay lit through all of the surrounding chaos.

Don’t even get me started on the bristles that fall from the tree and litter the floor below, or the garland that is ½ an inch too short (every inch counts, am I right?), or the lights outside that were supposed to follow a straight line instead look like they were strung by your kindergarten nephew (no offense, Matthew, you’re going places kid I still believe in you).

I could go on, but I feel as though I’ve made my point. Christmas for an individual with OCD, an eye for ornaments, and a spirited soul is nothing short of a nightmare. Every day the ½ inch will haunt you, the ornaments will plead with you to be adjusted, and the candy dish will be rotated for literally no reason. Every day is a battle; the OCD and the Christmas spirit go head to head to compete for your sanity.

Twenty years in and I can honestly tell you it only gets worse. Best of luck, my fellow compulsive friends; may the decorations be ever in your favor.