Obsessive Compulsive Idiot

I think it's fair to say that we all have our little idiosyncrasies. As you know I'm not a fan of bugs and I have serious issues with coordinating my head not to impact frequently with hurtful, solid objects. I have my hands full most of the time with making sure my bug spray is fully stocked and not to book myself out as a piñata at kids parties.
So it probably comes as no surprise to you that I'm also an obsessive compulsive idiot. What does this mean? Although I don't have to wash my hands repeatedly or count to one hundred before opening doors, I do have certain routines that I have trouble breaking. One of them is the washing. When I hear the timer go off, I find it almost impossible not to go and hang it up straight away. Logic dictates that it can wait until the next commercial, after I have finished eating, after ... well, after a lot of things, but for some reason I'm compelled to do it instantaneously. I suspect this also ties in with the notion that I'm a lazy bastard and don't want to iron it later if I can hang it up now ...
The second would be the dishes. I just can't leave them in the sink. I suspect this too stems not from laziness, but fear that the dirty kitchen will attract aforementioned bugs in droves that decide to burrow into my ears and lay eggs in my brain.
Right, so the point is not that I have a crazy imagination or that I'm seriously lazy (reserve all judgement please), the point is that I have some stupid habits that I can't break.

The one that bothers me at present is my reading capacity. I have recently been delivered a beautiful swag of not one, but nine books from Booktopia. Each book is one that I've been wanting to read for a long time, yet I haven't even browsed the synopsis.
Why you might ask? Because I'm already in the middle of reading another. Yes, you heard me. I cannot read more than one book at a time. Now, I don't know if this is because I have short term memory or because I don't like mixing my plots, but I suspect it relates to a whole lot of idiocy.
Jump back twenty odd years and you have me in my room playing with Barbie dolls. Mum, being sweet buys me a secondary one (apparently it needed the company). Of course now I'm confused about who Ken is supposed to play kissy with so the other one goes under the bed for safekeeping. I simply cannot work with more than one doll at a time. They tend to get jealous, you see.

Fast forward back to the present, and as incomparable as Barbie dolls and books may be, I still find myself stuck in the unbreakable cycle of the illogical. I want to read more books, yet I feel like I'm cheating on the one I'm currently vested in. So I ask this, is anyone else out there as ridiculously twisted as I am?
Anyone??
Who knows, maybe I'll try and break out of the cycle tonight, perhaps leave the dishes for at least an hour ...
Who am I kidding, I still don't want the bugs to get me.
Have a good one everyone,

Kristy :)