Obsession

Obsessing is something of a pastime for my family. We have always been great obsessors. "To each own" for birds, bees, flora, and My Relatives. My dear grandmother has long been noted for being totally consumed by thoughts, concerns, and even anxieties over the gathering, preparation, and/or consumption of meals. Other family members have at times developed fixations on one or more of the following items:

a) pets and/or pet care,
b) possible paint colors for various rooms,
c) National Public Radio,
d) computers and/or electronics,
e) the bathroom habits of relatives,
f) the bathroom habits of pets/wildlife,
g) general hygiene (human/animal),
h) rodents/any member of Lagomorphae,
i) the existing roof/floor/wall(s) and/or window(s) of any given room,
j) tacos,
k) etc.

With this understanding of my (circle one of the following, given current public bias) genetic makeup/early childhood environment, it should surprise no one that I occasionally fixate. I certainly can pick out my share of foibles from the list above; however, I rarely find my individual obsessions so ridiculous as the one I resolved today. Allow me to add it to the list:

l) bedding (Bettwäsche, for those of you playing at home).

As ridiculous as it is, it was a remarkably easy fixation to quell. I just happened to pop over to the Local Wal-Mart* this morning, and as I was browsing down the aisle between Big Glass and Stone Things and Fast-Moving Metal Objects, I happened to notice a store that sold bedding. It seemed remarkable, for I had been pricing personal items not two days earlier, in preparation for settling into some sort of material routine. "Remarkable," says I, "and, furthermore," thought I, "I should return to this place, perhaps to engage in some bed-related purchasing activities."

So, when I was bounced out of Deutsche Bank for not having an appointment (doh! -- and the lack of a phone number did not impress the teller, either), I returned to the shop to stand helplessly by while the shopkeepers buzzed about helping customers who seemed very clear about what they needed. I, on the other hand, have never dressed a German bed before, and I was not clear about the proper linens and such. I could only stare at the Bettwäsche for several minutes, pondering whether I needed a set of Kissentuche and Komforttuche? Did I also need a Spanbetttuch? Which Kisse goes with this set? And how big is my bed?

As I found out, giving a precise answer to the last question could be avoided by informing the clerk that "I am a student" and that, furthermore, "I live in a student Livinghouse." (For best results, imitate these phrases with a robot-like monotony in tone.)

However belligerently ignorant I appeared, the clerk was very helpful and gracious, taking my crudely assembled sentence-fragments and organizing them into a color-coordinated, summer-winter combination of items that were both comfortable and benignly priced. The best way to permanently cure an obsession is to throw too much money at it. Usually this results in a strong case of buyer's remorse, and a predisposition to avoid all purchases in a similar vein in the future. In this case, I got away with a minimal investment in both time (20 minutes of my day) and money (a mere E 88.90 88,90€ -- an absolute bargain, according to my unscientific comparison shopping).

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*The Local Wal-Mart is, in fact, Langestraße -- the local shopping street, replete with small retail establishments, cafés, and a pub or two (or five).