Swoosh Swoosh

As a general rule, I am a disorganized whirlwind of a woman. But there is one weirdly-specific area where I am border-line OCD neurotic for absolutely no reason at all, and that's the area of windshield wipers. I have *NO* clue what the hell my problem is when it comes to them, but for some reason, whenever I am forced to use them, I am constantly scoping the speed of other people's wipers and then comparing it to my own and then spending *WAY* too much time wondering whether perhaps I don't need them up so high and whether the other drivers are thinking "Oh my god--look at that woman using fast-delay when it's barely even sprinkling out!"

Seriously.

I have no clue why I am afflicted in such a strange way. It has no rhyme or reason. And yet: total performance anxiety when it comes to my windshield wipers.

Meanwhile, I have no problem leaving stretched out, used underwear scattered all over my bathroom floor.

The mind is a wonderful thing.

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