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in which I talk about checking for my keys, checking for my keys, and checking for my keys.

I think I’m becoming more OCD as I get older, which is strange, I always thought it would be interesting to be OCD because it meant that everything had a specific place and orientation in the world. To look at my office or my home, you wouldn’t think I was terribly OCD as both my office and home spaces tend to be a bit messy and disorganized, but maybe I’m just starting off small. I’ve found that lately I straighten piles of things more and more, than a stack of papers needs to be neatly squared off and then placed parallel to the edge of the counter, often times a same distance from two edges of the counter. Originally I thought it was just an overwhelming sense of aesthetics, that I wanted to make sure that the stack looked as tidy as possible, but then that wouldn’t really make it a compulsion, would it?

I became more aware of this growing sense of obsession when driving recently. I have, on many occasions in the last few weeks, been driving down the highway in my car. The car that I started up with my own keys, motoring toward my destination. Suddenly, I will feel the need to check my pocket for my keys. When I do not find my keys in my pocket, I first check again, and then reach forward to verify that they are in fact in the ignition. I’ve completely ignored the fact that the car could not actually be driving if it were not for the keys in the ignition. That thought is lost to me, all I know is that my keys are not in my pocket, so I must search for them until I find them.

Even today, I was driving to work with Heather and I checked to make sure my phone was in my pocket. It in fact was in my pocket. Less than two minutes later, I realized that I could not feel my phone in my pocket, so I had to pat myself down and check for it again. It was still in my pocket; it had not gone anywhere, by magic or mystery. Another two minutes later, I told Heather that I was very strongly resisting the urge to check for my phone again, knowing that I had already checked for it twice and found it both time. I had to grip the steering wheel tightly to keep from patting my thigh to feel that the phone was still there. To be honest, I think I checked when I got out of the car at work.

So yeah, I think I’m slowly developing OCD and by the way, my phone is still in my pocket. And its still in my pocket. And even now, its still in my pocket.