I think I may have a slight problem. My wife thinks I've reached the point of being borderline crazy. I'll give you just one small example and let you decide.

I've always been highly organized. Take my socks, for instance; I have them sorted in order as to how warm they keep my feet, from "walking on a red-hot bed of coals" to "I've lost all feeling in my toes and my feet are turning purple" cold.

It used to drive me crazy when my wife would get a "toasty" pair confused with a "turn up the heater" pair. But after 44 years she rarely makes a mistake, and when she does I don't always call it to her attention, showing that I've made great strides with "my little problem."

I admit, I may seem a bit neurotic. The first time my friend John saw my shop he was blown away by its orderliness. All my screws are in one cabinet in old butter containers, all of the same brand, color, typeface, and the like. Of course, I have them arranged from shortest to longest.

What really intrigued him was that all my bolts are in small metal coffee containers and my wife and I don't even drink coffee. He thinks I bought the containers and threw the coffee away. Silly man, I'd hardly ever do that.

I have all my fasteners for my leather work in plastic prescription bottles, and on, and on. John says that one night he's going to sneak into my shop and merge all my fasteners in one gigantic pile, and I live in constant fear that he may do so. I even have nightmares about it.

Okay, so maybe I should be wearing a MedicAlert bracelet indicating I have an obsessive/compulsive disorder.

It's odd that I love the cattle business so much because it's the most disorganized mess I've ever seen. The bulls won't stay where you put them and the cow's reproductive tracts aren't indexable. And then there's the changing weather.

(And yes, I believe the climate changes. It changed again today and, I surmise, will do so tomorrow too.)

I used to hate buying bulls because it was such a crap-shoot. All you had were three pieces of data (if you were lucky), and before a sale I'd arrange the bulls in order of birth weight, weaning, and yearling weight. I'd pick out a couple bulls and go to the sale only to find the bull I liked best was out of the sale due to a broken appendage (not a leg), and the other bull was suddenly sterile.

So, I'd go home with two bulls I hated. Now we have a plethora of data which makes it easy to identify the best bulls, but everyone else finds them too so they sell for $10,000 apiece and I end up going home with two inferior bulls I hate. But I have lots of data proving their inferiority!

I'm also the kind of guy who likes to know that all my assets are safe and secure every minute, but with cattle you may not even know where they are, let alone what they're doing.

I have a friend, Caesar, who, besides being a potential Trump deportee, is a great guy. I met him when he was working on a construction job nearby. Not being from the area, Caesar got in the habit of dropping by my shop at night for some fellowship.

One night he came with a friend because Caesar wanted to show him my shop. The fellow looked at all the applesauce containers arranged neatly and all the tools hung up in their proper place, and I could tell he was quite impressed. He picked out an unusual wrench to look at more closely but he hung it back up IN THE WRONG PLACE.

I don't know if he did it on purpose, and I tried real hard to just let it pass but it was driving me insane. I couldn't help it – I tried to resist but finally I just had to put the wrench back in its proper place.

Caesar's friend, not knowing that I spoke Spanish, turned to Caesar, placed a finger to his temple, and said, "Loco en la cabeza!"

I figure the guy probably saved me thousands of dollars on a psychiatrist just to get the same diagnosis.

(*Translation: Crazy in the head like a fox. It’s close enough for humor writing.)

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World. Readers may log on to www.LeePittsbooks.com to order any of Lee Pitts’ books. Those with questions or comments for Lee may write to him in care of this publication.