What does it mean to be an obsessive-compulsive worrier? Is it the little things like clicking the Microsoft Word save button a minimum of three times before closing a document? Is born out of some traumatic instance of forgetfulness that caused something unspeakable and infinitely preventable from happening? Regardless of the root cause, it is my belief that we all have our little posttraumatic ticks. For the lucky few, these ticks are minimal, boring, and mistakable for loveable quirky personality flaws. For the rest of us, the not so lucky, they can be the final wedge that eats away at our loved ones until the can’t take it anymore, until the leave.The nameless narrator of “Little Errands” would most likely belong with the unfortunate multitude. The story is a quick six-page disorder of highest caliber. The narrator has mailed two letters, “…one is a parking ticket, the other partial payment for new carpeting.” The act of mailing these letters consumes not only the narrator with worry but also all six pages of the story.
- Did the letters make into the mailbox?
- If the letters made into the mailbox, did they properly find themselves in the delivery try with the rest of the mail?
- Did stamps find their way onto the envelops?
- Were the envelopes sealed properly?
- Will they make it to their intended destinations?
The story is written with the perfect amount obsessive delusion. By the end of the first page my skin begins to crawl and I had to get up off the couch and shake off the feeling that I have forgotten to do something immensely important. The prose triggered in me feelings of paranoia so deep that I almost did not return to finish the story. I returned to the story and conquered my feelings of undone errands. I’m glad I did.
Freese, Mathias B. “Little Errands.” Down to a Sunless Sea. Tucson, Arizona: Wheatmark, 2007.
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