One of my favorite TV shows is Monk. (If you haven't watched this show, you SO need to!) He's a detective who suffers from OCD. The screenwriters always put him in some situation where his OCD comes out in full force and makes him look totally ridiculous. You feel such pain for the poor guy, like you do when you see someone walking around with their fly down, but at the same time it's so incredibly funny that you can't help laughing at the poor guy.
When he surveys a crime scene, he does his "Monk thing" where he puts his hands out in front of him, as if touching something or feeling out the scene. But of course he doesn't touch anything (might be germs!), his hands just move through the air sensing what is amiss.
When I went to the scrapbook store the other day, I was on a mission. I needed some orange and/or dark rose paper, preferable floral or paisley designed. And I got there just a few minutes before they closed, so there was no time to waste. The way the store is arranged, there is paper scattered throughout the store. A little here, a little there, a whole lot over there. I had to survey the scene, and I had to do it fast.
So there I was, walking down the aisles and around the displays. I'd made it about halfway through the store when I happened to look down and see my hands out in front me, a la Mr. Monk, sensing the colors and patterns to see if any matched my goal.
My friend Denise and I always joke about my OCD tendencies, and there they were right out there in the open for everyone to see. I hope the people at the store weren't Monk fans, and that they didn't laugh at me too hard when I left.