Garbagaphobia

Those of you that have known me for a long time will know about one very strange phobia I have. Maybe you would classify it as a phobia, maybe its just an aversion of sorts. In any case, I thought I had it sorted when I married Al, but it has reared its ugly head again.

I spent 15 minutes Googling this topic to try and find out if it had a scientific name but didn't manage to come up with anything official. For lack of a better work I am going to call it simply; garbagaphobia, AKA fear of garbage.

Since I now spend every second week in Gove there are certain things that I have to do for myself (99.9% of these things I am more than capable of doing) and one of those is taking out the garbage. Now seeing as I eat at the mess every day I don't produce a lot of garbage in my room but when I leave on a Friday I still need to put out the garbage that is there otherwise it sits there over the weekend until my room is cleaned on a Monday.

Now those of you laughing, wait for it.....it gets worse. I will not under any circumstances take out the garbage at home, that is Al's job. In exchange I do all the ironing. During our marriage this has never been an issue (until now obviously) but prior to Al moving in it was a different story, just ask my sister.

Before I lived with my sister for about 18 months - and she took out the garbage the whole time - I lived by myself. Every second weekend Ast would come to visit AND during that visit I would con her into taking out the garbage for me.

I have no idea what started this garbagaphobia, nor can I pinpoint exactly when it became an issue. I certainly remember taking out the garbage when I lived at home and don't remember freaking out about it. Nevertheless, I am freaking out now!

So there you have it, mock me if you will but I, like all of God's creation, have imperfections. Once of which is my aversion to garbage. Let's not get started on the others, that's enough for one night.