The Peanut Butter Jar

So the more I am aware of the fact that I am OCD, the more I realize what exact things I am OCD about. We have already touched on the undies OCD. So today I am here to tell you about the Peanut Butter Jar.

I have inherited my Mom's taste buds. We like a lot of the same things. Like, I prefer sugar free cookies and ice cream because that is all she can eat; when she was pregnant with me she ate nothing but pizza and I am half Italian (I swear!); she also likes Mexican and I AM half Mexican!
One of her favorite snacks is anything with peanut butter on it. Celery, apples, Nilla Wafers, ice cream... anything! So I have inherited her love of peanut butter. I eat it almost everyday. I heart peanut butter.

No one else can get the peanut butter out of the jar but me. So if Doug wants a sandwich, tuff luck unless I can do it for him. Why you ask? Because he will mess up the peanut butter. There can be no peanut butter on the sides of the jar. That is a waste. It must be scraped off and eaten. The peanut butter can not have huge craters in it from scooping it out. It must be smooth and all at the same height.

Yes, I spend many minutes scraping the sides of the peanut butter jar with a knife every time I eat anything with peanut butter. Yes, this is a very difficult task. Yes, the veins pop out of my head when I can not get it perfect. And Yes, I love it just the way I do it!

My OCD confession of the month (maybe week).

P.S. The ice cream container has to be done the same way.

So to annoy me Doug will mess up the peanut butter or the ice cream. I retaliate by bouncing on the bed, messing up the pillows and comforter, or by moving stuff around in his bathroom cabinet. Ha! Unfortunately for him I more options to pick from than he does.