Confessions of an OCD Baker

As anyone who knows me well can attest, I can be just a wee bit compulsive about certain things. Take those little, white, umbilical cord-looking thingies inside of an egg, for example. This evening, I was making cheesecake for a holiday party, and, at midnight, I found myself scraping out those little goobers one at a time before I could bear putting the eggs in the cake batter.

I just can’t stand the thought of forking off a piece of chocolate cheesecake and getting a dangly umbilical cord as a bonus prize, no matter how small. (Okay, I know they aren’t umbilicial cords—Wikipedia tells me they are called “chalaza”—but they’re still gross.)

But why, you may ask. What’s the big deal? I dunno. That’s the thing about obsessions and compulsions. You can’t ask why. As my daughter Sarah likes to say, “It’s not my fault. Jesus just made me that way.”

(Photo courtesy of Whateverthing on Flickr; available at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/whateverthing/2302962136/.)