Fiorella diagnoses herself as paranoid obsessive. Always looming over her is the threat of failing to carry out one of her self-assigned responsibilities, of not living up to what she thinks is expected of her. It's guilt--part and parcel of being brought up Missouri Synod. To compensate, she writes everything down--there are scraps of paper on her desk and in her "study" that date back to the ice age--and she makes lists to boot. Office Depot's profit margin is based on her purchases of tablets.
Fio has been known to wake up in the middle of the night to check that she's taken all her pills and that they were the correct ones. A recurring nightmare is that she's forgotten about one pill or the other a couple of years ago and fate is about to catch up with her. This morning she suddenly realized that dream she'd often had about finding a baby dead in his crib because she'd forgotten about him doesn't have anything to do with babies (thank you, Friend Janece), but about her fear that unknown things forgotten along the way will come back to bite her.
Are you sure you want to continue reading this woman's blog? She's crazy.