My OCD knows no bounds

During renovations, in a desperate attempt to control the visual chaos of my environment, I’ve lost my mind.  I’ve gone round the bend folks.  My obsession this week?  Ensuring that, when I open the shower curtain, all the shampoo, conditioner and body wash bottles complement one another.   Hello Ma’am, we’ve got a lovely little jacket for you here, fits nice and snugly around the waist and shoulders, and ensures that your arms stay in one place.

I have little loyalty to personal grooming products.  Sure, I could  go out there and spend $25 on an organic, paraben-free, get you to smell like ambrosia shampoo, but  that ain’t gonna happen.  Because why?  Because I’m not made of money and there are shampoos, conditioners and body washes out there that will do the same thing for a fraction of “Are you fucking serious?!?” prices.

As a result of my common sense and general stinginess, I buy things when they are on sale.  Love, love, LOVE Olay body wash, but it’s a titch pricey, and unless it goes on sale, it doesn’t get to ride shotgun home with me.  When there’s a moisturizing conditioner on sale for under $3 – I buy it.   If there’s a different moisturizing shampoo that’s even less expensive – I buy it.  Same goes for body wash, although I do have a predilection for nicely smelling body washes and will sometimes splurge – you know, when I have Christmas or birthday money burning a hole in my pocket and my Mom’s given me the directive to spend it on “something you love, just for you.”  That’s when I head to the local body care shop and avert my eyes when the cash register totals the sale.  I come home with things that smell of gingerbread or lemon scones and line them up on the ledge of my shower and revel in my delectability. 

Problem with buying all these different products is that when they eventually make their way to reside in my shower – they look like this:

Which for a normal sane person (who knows that the shower curtain can just be shut and you don’t have to see anything, that you won’t even be aware of the fact that nothing matches in size or colour), wouldn’t be an issue.  For me, until the house ceases to have a layer of drywall dust over everything, it’s made me wiggy.  Sure, you can get fancy-dancy bath containers that cost you an arm and a leg so that everything matches, but I  haven’t lost my sense of frugality with my sanity.

So off I went to Dollarama, seeking the perfect body care receptacles.  Small enough to fit on the shelves, but big enough and of such pleasing shape that they would be practical and (in my present state of psychosis), pretty.  I bought cheap-ass hand soaps that looked like the labels could easily be pulled off.

In hindsight, I’ll still be picking little bits of glue off them until Armageddon (nail polish remover can take most of the gumminess away, but not all of it apparently), but until then, things will match.  Although, there had been some milk bottle style body wash bottles for $2 a pop that might look even better and would add a whole turn of the century feel to what’s behind the curtain…