"A Little OCD?"

            Sometimes, I pretend my quirks of organization keep our home running smoothly, but I suspect my husband and son view my penchant for orderliness as tremendously irksome. Right now, the kitchen desk sports hand sanitizer sprays lined in a militarily precise row. Next to them, a black box contains a pair of rubber gloves, three “back-up” face masks, and the four thick masks that we all prefer. Those masks, washed in hot water after every use, get rotated into the box to prevent us from overusing any one mask since they are identical. There’s been tons of joking that having the pandemic gave me a valid excuse for my love affair with bleach!

            This period of pause is the longest I’ve ever gone without working or being a caregiver. It allows me to indulge my need for tidiness. At the beginning of the year, we got rid of our ancient, heavy bedroom furniture and picked up something functional that feeds into my growing need for simple lines. Imagine my delight when I found wonderful fabric bins that fit our drawers perfectly. I Marie Kondo-ed everything! Folding clothes, once a ho-hum chore, now delights me. Everything has its place because there is a place for everything.

            

          I blissfully structure other things in my daily life. Do I hunt for keys? Never! My house keys reside in their own separate pouch that gets tucked into a zipped section of my purse. Naturally, I buy purses with similar features to keep searching for anything in my purse to a minimum. Other women do that, right?

            When I leave the house for the day, my routine never strays. I make certain my tote contains the necessary items for the day. Pens, journal, book, water, lunch. I check the bag twice before zipping it up and heading out the door. Before returning home at the end of each day, I repeat the process twice. I figure a little time with upfront coordination saves me time. If something gets left behind, that means trip backtracking. OCD, or efficient use of time? You decide.

             

Copyright 2020 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

I HAVE to have music to listen to as I clean and organize! How about you? Today I'm putting this on repeat!

 

 

             

 

 

“Content of Hate”

My heart breaks every day now. Someone else’s daughter taken away. The friend of a friend of a friend of a friend handcuffed and dragged down stairs and into the street. A worker beaten with fists by one, two, three, four, five, six, seven weaponized and disguised modern KKK. Masks instead of white hoods, but they inherited their black souls from grandfathers long dead. They pummel priests and pastors, and rip children from safe, loving parents. They kill because they can.

We know how they want this to end. Goebbel’s guidelines play out with each press conference. Blame the victim who can’t speak for herself—she’s dead. Blame the victim who stood up to witness their cruelty. He’s dead, too. Blame the five-year-old in his blue capped innocence. Blame the two-year-old who should’ve had better parents. 

Their venom poisons every word they utter, every thought they present through distortion. They force themselves into our lives daily by creating their own content of hate. 

Opposition surprises them. In their warped world of inhumanity, they cannot imagine anyone uniting in persistent, frustratingly legal resistance. Horns and whistles sounded in warning, phones raised high to record their brutality, doors locked against them when they think there should be approval.      

Streets flooded with humanity screaming, “FUCK ICE! GO HOME!”

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

This song, "Seconds to Live" came to mind today.