And, while it may still hold true (a look inside of my closets [not the proverbial one, however] will prove this is the case), there are just some things I am completely obsessive about...
One of those things is my CD rack.
Now I realize this is a new age: People don't actually buy CD's anymore, they "download" songs onto iPods and cell phones and such. And, while I do dabble occasionally in the MP3 world and other nefariously digitized musical tunes, my CDs are still my main staple of music--a domain in which I rule what gets placed where, how, and in what condition, all physically.
If there's one thing that gets my knickers in a twist, it's when a certain someone places Mariah Carey after The Carpenters (my CD, and then nameless someone's CD, respectively), not realizing WHY it is important that they remain in ALPHABETICAL order. Nameless One, apparently, doesn't realize how important music is...
Granted, my books don't enjoy this same treatment: fiction is butted up against fantasy butted up against philosophy, butted up against biography, fiction, history, yadda yadda... No order, no rhyme, no reason. That's just how they are.
But music is different--when I'm in the mood to hear, say, Smashing Pumpkins, I do not want to hunt through over 300+ CDs in the hopes that I find it before my whim passes, especially when I'm on my way out the door for work!
But it does, indeed, happen, that I must try to hunt down something that should be in a certain place on my rack:
And I did see him. When he came through the door, I had every single one of those 300+ CDs on the coffee table, placing them back in alphabetical order...
Me: Where is my Smashing Pumpkins CD?
Rich: Your what?!
Me: Smashing Pumpkins? Have you seen it?
Rich: Isn't it there?
Me: I wouldn't know since someone decided that, when they had off, they would willy-nilly listen to shit and not put them back where they were taken from...
Rich: Trust me, I have never listened to anything called "Smashing Pumpkins."
(And yes, there were air quotes utilized...)
Me: Then why are they not between the Sleepwalkers soundtrack and the Smoke That Thunders Native American Sounds CD?
Rich: The what and the what?
Me: In fact, where is the Sleepwalkers soundtrack? It should be right here after Skillet.
Rich: Are you making this up?
Me: Fine, I'll listen to--
(grabbing a random CD from the Tower-of-Pisa-like structure...)
Me: --Roxette. Sigh. Not really in the mood, though...
Rich: Why haven't I even heard of these groups?
Me: Because you still listen to the Carpenters and Bette Midler, you cliche-ridden slob.
Rich: Someone needs coffee.
Me: I'm going to be late--I'll see you when I get home.
I could have spent this time finishing up my Christmas shopping. Instead, I spent the evening playing with my rack.
I suppose there are worse things in life. And at least I know the next time I need to listen to Enya or The Lightning Seeds, I will be able to grab it and leave... Well, at least until Nameless One decides to disco it up again...
The price we pay for cohabitation...