Where I diagnose my own OCD

Forget that after watching an episode of the show Hoarders, I spent three days cleaning out my basement and my garage. Then, after watching another episode, I needed to declutter so badly that I deleted the vast majority of my Internet favorites, emails and Facebook friends.

Beyond that, I have yet another reason why I'm sure I have OCD.

I bought a new dining room set in the spring. I'd saved up for years for it, so I wanted it to be perfect. When it arrived with a chip on one of the leaves, I asked for the table top to be replaced rather than repaired.

Weeks later, after fighting with the manufacturer on my behalf, the store I bought it from finally bought a whole new table for me, and agreed to do a straight across swap. Today, that new table arrived. The delivery guys were kind enough to allow me to inspect said table before even taking it off the truck. I didn't find any scratches or dents, so they went ahead with the swap. That's when I discovered that I don't like the new pedestal. There's a minute scratch on it, I don't like the wood grains as much on this one as the other one. I was embarrassed to say that, though, so I let the delivery guys leave with the old table.

That was a mistake. After they left, I felt the stress rev up until I couldn't handle it anymore and I ended up calling the store. Bless their hearts, the service department - who had been on the receiving end of my wrath when the manufacturer balked at replacing the table top - barely blinked. They got on the phone, called the delivery guys (who had managed to drive half way across town by then) and told them to come back. They swapped out the pieces so that I get to keep the old pedestal with the new table top.

They think I'm crazy, but my stress level is once again at a manageable level.

Now, as soon as I finish writing the thank you letter to the store, I can get back to cleaning, decluttering and otherwise proving to myself that I'm not a hoarder.