Now That's OCD

When you're sitting in a concert hall and they announce that you should make sure your cell phone is off you: check that it's off at least 20 times and then still "obsessed" with the idea that it will spring to life on its own and magically download a loud fart novelty ring tone and go off during some quiet introspective part of the concert, you feel the "compulsion" to dash it to the ground, stomp on the pieces and scatter the remains. Yep, I have OCD. But when friends ask me about my symptoms, it's hard to even remember them sometimes because I invited big pharma into my house and I'm virtually symptom free now. But at my husband's Master Chorale concert last night, I was amused to remember the feeling that makes me leave the cell in the car these days. Of course I have to check several times that it is in fact in the car, but at least I'm not coming close to breaking it.