Sheebz

I am initiating the once in a decade physical (what do you mean I need a colonoscopy?) and driving back from the doctor today, decided to stop off and see my friend Sheebz. Sheebz is an old pal, one of my true beach buddies. She manages to spend her time pretty evenly split between the snow and the surf, lives a very physical existence, I love her to death.

I called her yesterday and she said that it was time we had a nice bike ride on the beach, something that sent a chill up my spine because the last time I had a "mellow" beach ride with her I ended up having a heart attack the next day.

"What are you trying to do, finish the job?" I asked and she started laughing, I guess it was supposed to be a joke. Hysterical.

Sheebz' late husband Dave was an incredible ski photographer and all around prince. He helped me out a lot when I started getting back into photography. The good ones always get taken from us first and way too soon.

Sheebz is a really interesting human being. Because, but not limited to, something which she calls her "condition." (con-dee-shun, sort of latin sounding)

In Sheebz case the condition means neatness way past ocd, an organizational compulsion that would make many of us run screaming. God have pity on you if you track any foreign matter onto that beautiful white shag carpeting... Shoes off, Sommers! I think that a few cell phone pictures might help illustrate.

I got to Sheebz's house and she had a load of sod and flowers perfectly packed into her car's trunk, which I helped her unpack, being that kind of guy.

We walk into the garage, her effects perfectly sorted and compartmentalized into individual totes.

Sheebz said that she can't help it, runs in her family, her german grandmother was like this as well. Tidy.

The condition is not merely about tidy, organized and clean. It also entails a strange need for supplies. Cleaning implements of every type.

Hence five bottles of windex on the work top. Next to multiple flashlights. Because you never know when four bottles of windex just won't be enough to do the job.

The condition also extends to paper towels.

And of course plastic bags.

Lots of plastic bags.

God forbid one should run out. Is it just me or does the single triscuit box seem very lonely to you?

I, of course, am the antithesis of neat and tidy but as has been noted repeatedly by the sages, it takes all kinds and there is an apocryphal ass for every saddle.

I have my own, equal if not greater compulsions, which I will not sully these pages with at the present time.

Thank you Sheebz, for allowing us this quick peek into your life. You run a clean ship.