Living in Jesus-Land. Wait, wait. Make that Joseph-Land.

I have a suspicion that an attorney that leases space at our office is Mormon. The default here is in my favor, since most everyone in this geographic area is Mormon. I seriously believe that 9 of 10 churches here are LDS.

Anyhow, I asked him the other day if he wanted some coffee. He looked horrified. "Oh no, I try to stay away from stuff like that." Oh Joseph-Smith! It's not crack. I wonder what response I would get if I did offer him crack...

This morning, as I am pouring a cup of joe, he walks into the kitchen and comments "Oh no, pounding back more coffee eh?" Then he made that weird 'tst-tst' noise. You know, the one that conveys the same message as the 'no-no-no' finger wave. If that makes any sense at all. He also has a picture in his office that appears to be his family. I don't know if there are more children in that picture or in Daughter's overcrowded fourth grade class.

This constitutes the entirety of information I am basing my suspicion on.

In Memory

"Something which we think is impossible now, is not impossible in another decade."

Constance Baker Motley

Update: Arrested Developments

So the secretary at the firm across the hall that got hauled away in handcuffs last week is back at work. Despite diligent efforts, the gossip-buzzers failed to hammer down the precise reason for her arrest. However, there is speculation that she had outstanding warrants. Whatever she did, the Big Law bad guys allowed her back to work.

I would fire a secretary for getting arrested at the office, in the middle of the day, and in front of the big glass-walled conference room that opposing counsel just happened to be sitting on the other side of. Fired her ass in an instant for making me look bad. I wouldn't care if she were completely innocent and only arrested because she looks a little "terrorist-esque." Fired. Immediately fired. Nothing personal, just a utilitarian decision. The severance package, and its mandatory wrongful termination waiver, would be enough to help everyone get through it.

Well, unless I just settled a case I was 75% sure I was going to lose at trial. Then I would be flying so high on success endorphins that I wouldn't be able to fathom such cruel behavior. Under those circumstances, I might be amused and laughing as my secretary was being wrongfully arrested. I would photoshop her picture into one of those stupid "Wanted" posters you can have made at the county fair and tape it to the office fridge. That would definitely amuse me. Maybe the opposing counsel on the other side of that big glass wall had just agreed to dismiss Big Law's client in a case Big Law was 75% sure they would lose. That would explain it.

I'm going to go see if anyone over there wants to borrow my copy of Photoshop.

Hope Springs Eternal

Here's to hoping Tom Delay has to take it for this one.

Learning the Tricks of the Trade

Around lunch, The Boss came in and asked me to create proposed Voir Dire questions for an upcoming trial. The proposals need to be filed tomorrow. At 5:00, I handed the document off to the Superstar Paralegal. He is editing it at this very moment. He should be going home to pet his dog.

I feel like a total jerk.

Arrested Developments

Sorry the posts are light over the past few days. I'm working on our office's Reply to opposing counsel's Response to our firm's original Motion to Compel. The turnover times for these things are short. None of this 4 week time-table for drafting documents that I oh-so-fondly remember from 1L Legal Research and Writing.

Anyhow, just some quick gossip.

Recently, I posted about how I had an internal freak out when a police officer moseyed into the firm and I schizophrenically convinced myself he was there for me. Among the possibilities I listed, Ann pointed out that I was also guilty of corrupting youth and public indecency when I recently removed my pants and handed them to an Eagle Scout. Fair enough. Good form picking up on that.

Anyhow. The cops came back. Again I was convinced I was going down. Again it wasn't me. Not this time. Instead, the secretary at the firm across the hall was being escorted from the building in handcuffs. She works for the Bad Guys. You know, meanies that defend huge corporations when they do things like... I dunno... sell products on a national market that - oops - kill lots of people. Or argue that all those kids got luekemia thanks to the genes of a great-great-grandmother who had breast cancer once, not their corporate client who happened to dump tons of filth into the drinking supply. Firms like that. The Bad Guys. Apparently, it's contagious and this secretary did not receive the proper immunizations.

Not sure what she did but the entire building is just dying to find out.

11:45 at night and I'm working. Turns out working in the legal field really is more than I ever thought it would be.

In other news, new car has been named. Ally the Altima. I've already scratched her on a parking structure twice. I do this a lot. It's not as bad when it's my own car.

There's No Place Like Home

I just got back from The Boss' house. A paralegal and I went to drop off a package, and pick up a taped dictation. The Boss looks weird in sweat shorts and t-shirt, since he is usually all about the full on Dapper Man suit. I was feeling weird about seeing The Boss, since I've been absent from work and spent the entire morning reading through old correspondence for a motion I'm writing. Above all, this morning's readings taught me that there have been 5+ people in my position over the past few years. I'm not sure what to make of it.

Conclave called. Any gut instincts on what high second-attorney turnover means in the office of an extremely sucessful (otherwise) solo practitioner? Were they awful? Could they not handle some aspect of how he practices law? I shudder to think about things I have no idea about...

Anyhow, The Boss' house is a palace. A maid answered the door. An antique chair in the foyer was too nice to sit on. I sat on it. To see if it would break. It didn't. Beautiful, original art work everywhere. I'm betting he has a grand piano in there, but I wasn't going to go snooping about on my first visit. I don't know why I was so surprised by all this. It was nice, I wouldn't mind a house like that. Still, the most important thing I took away from this visit is the knowledge that he could have afforded all those other attorneys....so what gives?

Too Soon!!!

So I'm back at work today. Not feeling good. But back. Drug out of bed this morning, alerting myself to the risks of taking three days off from work. I mean, I did stop by for half the day yesterday, but Wednesday I didn't show at all. That's pretty to close to job abandonment in the legal field. So I am sitting at my desk, staring at the work pile that grew beyond anything I can calmly comprehend.

My list of assignments include:

• Writing a Reply to a Response to the first motion I ever wrote top to bottom. Opposing counsel is mean, hung up on me the other day when she called the office. She doesn't even know who I am yet, let alone that I authored the motion that has her agro. Hopefully my biting sarcastic intelligence will fight it's way from the haze of my physical weakness and result in her getting a firm BenchSlapping.
• Reviewing every deposition in a case that is up for a Mandatory Settlement Conference soon. Almost twenty inches of depositions I've been instructed to "Burn through and know."
• The most obscure research project ever. It involves figuring out the cost of future medical care for a permanent, and somewhat rare, medical condition. Sounds easy enough, except for the part where I haave to account for a million variables and possibilities of how this person's health might play out... It's a lot like playing the If Game, only with medical terminology and research studies that only make 1/3 of sense to me.

Let's get this bitch done.

Too Soon?

Called in sick today - after a month on the job. Hopefully it won't be a problem.

Crazy East Coast Uncle - you get killed by Rita? Evacuated? Living it up on your New York houseboat?

Childhood Paranoia Residuals

A police officer walked into the firm wearing full uniform. I saw him outside my door and found myself staring at his gun. Scary gun. First thing in my head is that he is here for me. Here to arrest me. I bounced a check. The RIAA wants to make an example of me. My drug dealer from ten years ago ratted on me. The UC Berkeley police came to collect the money I owe. Ex-husband filed a restraining order. Building security caught me on tape stealing a roll of toilet paper. There are more offenses, but these are the ones I am willing to blog. After all, some crimes have no SoL... I was freaking out. Getting arrested at work? Probably bad. Will cost my job. My car. My family. Everything. Here is the police officer, come to take it all away.

The officer came to serve papers on behalf of opposing counsel for a case.

My schizophrenic reaction has a 99% chance of originating in childhood.

When I was young, my household maintained a perpetual suspicion and hatred of police. When we saw a cop driving behind us, my mother and step-father would scream "Sit down, look straight, don't turn your eyes anywhere near that police car." When they came to the house to investigate complaints of drug-dealing, noise, vicious dogs - my parents went off about how terrible police were as soon as they were gone. We never called the police during an emergency. Presence of police was an emergency. The police were The Fuzz, the Five-O, Copper-Copper-Crime-Stoppers. Whatever we were calling them that year, it was beat into my head: Police are bad. Police are ready to interfere. Police are crookedy-crooked. Police won't help. Police will only look for a reason to arrest you. The police had always just arrested someone we knew.

And so it was. And, as it turns out, so it continues. Looking back, I realize a large portion of my parents' feelings on police are grounded in the fact that there was a heck of a lot of illegal activity going on when I was growing up, and so naturally most encounters were negative. Why I can't move forward on this issue is beyond me. I have not been pulled over since I got my license one year ago, but every day I think my time is coming. On a few occasions, I have been followed, and felt certain I was about to go down. No matter how legal I am, how strictly I adhere to the laws or how much I consciously recognize my biases - I can't let go. I hate police.

Getting Publicly Indecent for Good Cause.

I went to the DMV Saturday morning with Daughter's Father, who has been officially elevated to Boyfriend... So I'm driving to the DMV with Boyfriend and we arrive to a line twisted around the building like people waiting for Star Wars tickets. Mental note - no more Saturday DMV attempts. Freaked out, we left immediately, turned around, and headed home.

On the way back, we saw Eagle Scouts standing in front of a Mormon Church, waving a sign asking for denim jean donations. We pulled over and inquired whether this was for hurricane victims. Eagle Scout said no, informing us the clothing drive was for locals. Apparently, superiors at Eagle Scout Central issued a directive focusing benevolent efforts on a 25 mile radius surrounding Phoenix Suberbia (a.k.a. Mormonville). I thought that was a very nice thing for them to do, even if I didn't believe for a second that poverty-stricken people in a 100+ degree desert need jeans more than homeless flooded-out folk.

Nevertheless, I thought it a good cause and, more importantly, a rare opportunity for cheap self-entertainment. I decided to donate. I pulled down my jeans and handed them to boyfriend, who passed them on to Eagle Scout. Eagle Scout took them, looking embarrassed but laughing. He was probably about 15, and Boyfriend and I were hoping to provide some memorable storytelling that would help carry the kid for awhile. Poor thing probably not even allowed to see rated-R movies. As we drove away, we saw him running to fellow Eagle Scouts, holding my jeans. They all looked our direction and huddled together to discuss it. Boyfriend and I laughed for a good ten minutes straight, then headed home to put on pants, pack up, pick up Daughter and head to Flagstaff for the weekend.

Good times. Good times.

Georgie Porgie, Pudding and Pie

I was listening to Bush's speech from New Orleans on the way to work this morning, when he made a comment that struck me:

"Within the Gulf region are some of the most beautiful and historic places in America. As all of us saw on television, there's also some deep, persistent poverty in this region, as well. That poverty has roots in a history of racial discrimination, which cut off generations from the opportunity of America. We have a duty to confront this poverty with bold action. "

Huh? George Bush comprehending the concept of historical discriminatory forces exerting a modern day influence? My God. Here I always just thought he was too stupid to understand. Now that he has verbalized a comprehension of the connection, his Lex's Mind Label has been updated from "Insulated in Ignorance" to "Willing to Disregard" Also, notice how he says we have a duty to confront "poverty" not "discrimination." Shiesty.

I hate it when people conflate issues of race and poverty. I grew up poor. And white. One thing I have learned about being poor and white -- there is a big difference between being a poor white person and being a poor person of color. It's NOT the same, it's not just about socioeconomics, it's about default presumptions and the perception of how someone gets or stays poor. White people are provided much more favorable starting assumptions.

I can't wait to see what Georgie's idea of "bold action" is. Maybe he could start by awarding the majority of reconstruction contracts to local companies with a labor force in desperate need of work. The whole no-bid Bechtel/ Fluor contract thing makes his morning comments reek of insincerity.

Fuck off George Bush. Seriously.

Beep-Beep A Beep-Beep Yeah

Lex Fori officially has a fancy new car. It feels like my first, although technically, my first car was Jethro, the 1986 Ford Piecer. Now I am sporting the cutest little red 2005 Altima. She needs a name, but I haven't found one that fits her perfectly just yet. Current contenders are: Alexis, Althea and Rose. I also really, really like the name Lux. But I think I'll save that one in the event that I ever 1) have another daughter or 2) Get a Lexis. Whichever comes first.

On the way to work, I was caught in traffic and found myself checking out the cars of my fellow drivers. People in Phoenix have lame bumper stickers. Here are some examples:

"MARINES: Your Best Friend, Your Worst Enemy" ~~ Really? I thought Marines were supposed to be the good guys, protecting the sweet, sweet taste of freedom or something. I don't want a Marine as my worst enemy. That's frightening.

"Viva Bush" ~~ You can't rock this sticker if you're Hispanic and driving a crap car. There is NO way Bush is acting in your interest. Maybe this sticker was placed in an attempt to gain favor in the eyes of pursuing officers. As previously blogged, Arizona police pull over Hispanics way more often than statistics allow if the numbers reflect racial distributions in the population. But this is all based on my personal experience, so I guess statistical analysis on the matter is a tad inappropriate. Put simply, Phoenix police pull over Hispanics like Oakland police pull over African-Americans. If you've spent any amount of time in Oakland, you hear what I'm clucking Big Chicken.

"Pave the Planet" ~~ On an SUV, surprise, surprise. This plain disgusted me. I mean, really, I get that you clearly don't care too much about protecting the environment, but you want to take proactive measures to ensure it's early demise? You should not be permitted to drive. Given your apparent intelligence level, I'm sure we can't execute you, so you should have to get off the road as well.

Others that I can't remember the precise wording of involved expressing the general sentiment that boils down to "Fuck off France"; Ridiculous numbers of Bush election stickers, including the powerfully simple "W" and "Tard Jr. in '04"; others include "Privatize Social Security" and "Starve the Poor." Not exactly the socially sympathetic type here in Arizona.

I used to have a great sticker that I lost in the divorce. It said "Born Ok the First Time." Double jack to born-agains and Hindus. I need to replace that sticker. Also get another one letting all the Red People know what I think of them.

I'm a (Kinda) Smart One

Your IQ Is 130

Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Genius Your General Knowledge is Above Average

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

Thanks out to Hufflin n Puffin, who posted her reslts on her blog, Angry Little Iowa Law Student. The funny thing about my results is the whole below average logical intelligence... I always thought that was my strongest quality. And math, well, as I've said. 5 out of 4 people have trouble with fractions, and I am leading up that pack.

So I guess I'm an illogical math genius. Kinda Lame.

In other news, I just saved a ton of money on my auto insurance with Geico.

Would You Like Cream on that Floor?

Got to the office a few minutes early today and decided to make the coffee. I drink most of it, and so I figure I should contribute. I grabbed a filter, poured the grinds in and hit brew. I meandered back to my office and printed a few cases to read before lunch. I moseyed on back to the kitchen a half hour later, so ready for my morning GoJo.

A puddle covered everything, there was coffee all over everywhere. On the counter. On the floor. On the deposition tape that The Boss was watching the other day. I freaked out, moved the most important items and got to cleaning. I noticed the coffee pot was perfectly clean and shiny. Sitting off to the side of the machine, it had never been put into place.

A Master of the Mother Fucker situation.

Upside Down S.U.V.

Today, I left for work behind schedule. I was exhausted from a lazy Sunday on the river yesterday, where I got sunburned after a float trip in shorty-shorts and a tank top. Anyhow, I got in the truck and turned on the radio, looking for some info on local traffic. As always, the freeway I take was slow, but today it was Super-D-Duper slow due to an accident. Ever resourceful, I went a bit out of my way to hop another freeway that generally has substantially better conditions. Everything was going fine - Jethro the Ford Piecer was hitting speeds of 75mph and his bursts of power loss that I've become accustomed to were less frequent than usual.

By 7:30 I was speeding along, in the far left lane of the highway. Suddenly, I saw a huge, white SUV flip over on the opposite side of the freeway. Boom. Upside down. And then skidding. On its top. Towards me.

This was rather frightening, and I quickly realized the sparking ball of white metal and black smoke could conceivably hit me. The only thing between us was a flimsy wire fence pretending to be a divider. A blanket of brown dust spit out from the SUV and covered me and Jethro. I slammed my brakes and stayed put, petrified, unable to move. I'm one of those people who will curl up in a ball and wait to die when disaster strikes. After the dust cleared I hopped from the truck, running to the SUV in my brand new Ann Taylor heels. And matching skirt. They are very cute. I wouldn't even mention my outfit, but it really was just very, very cute. Before it became covered in the dust sludge of my Good Samaritanship.

Anyhow, the father was already out, pulling his daughters from the back. People gathered, calling the police on their cell phones. A woman ran over, informing all that she was a nurse. She began checking the children. The mother got out and yelled "what did we hit?!?" The father was in rescue mode, and I watched him herd his children away from the billowing tower of black, scary smoke. The mother, get this, ran BACK to the charcoaled vehicle, despite her husband's attempt to hold her by the elbow. She shook free, screaming at him "I have to get my cell phone."

Can you believe that? I mean, they were surrounded by people on cell phones, calling for emergency assistance. Her daughters, probably aged 5 - 12, were freaking the fuck out, crying, afraid, scratched up, some bleeding. But mommy needed her cell phone. Look, maybe I'm being too judgmental, since this woman did just flip over and go asphalt skiing upside down in a big ass SUV. Concededly, I can't understand what instincts take over at that point. But I'm guessing mine would be more along the lines of checking on Daughter than retrieving cell phones. Then again, I have a really old, crappy Nokia. If I just made a year and a half commitment with some company, and gotten a free $250 phone with a built in camera n stuff... I dunno... I'm just thinking out-type here... I waited long enough to make sure all were well, and saw that there were plenty of witnesses. As such, I thought it best if I got out of the way before emergency personnel showed up - because there is nothing less effective than stupid people getting in the way of emergency crews.

I walked over, somberly handing my card to the father.

"Hi, I'm Lex (outstretched hand). Good to meet you (firm handshake).
Is this your daughter? So brave. (head pat).
Glad you are all ok, that looked pretty scary...
Listen, I don't know what happened, or if you feel you need to talk to someone...
But if there are any issues when you're working this out. You know, the insurance run-a-round, doctors or something...
Yeah, yeah. Oh sure, I know just how this can be.
Why don't you take my office number, and, God forbid, if there are any problems...
Give me a call.
I'd be glad to talk with you."

Never a bad time to recruit clientele.
40%. I would go 30%, but his wife didn't strike me as an overly sympathetic plaintiff.

After All, Tomorrow is Another Day

Well, I'm not psychic, but I was right. Yesterday su-ucked. I want to be psychic, but I think I made a deal with God before birth. As best I can estimate, I traded off all of my life's intuition, luck and physical balance for the quality of persistence. It might sound like a bad deal, but persistence is a baseline requirement for those wanting to come up out of a life like mine. I don't think I'm an extremely intelligent person or that things have fallen into my lap. But I am the type to relentlessly pursue things I want, no matter how far-fetched they seem. I'm like a dog that gets beaten by its owner all the time and continues to believe it can all work out. Only for me, it usually does eventually. Those poor dogs just spend their lives wincing and hoping to get their head patted.

Not that I believe in God or anything. I have this whole theory about how religion is really just a manifestation of human vanity and our desire to be part of everything, always. That and the fact that religion acts as a free pass for society to tolerate the mistreatment of others, because the meek will get theirs in Heaven. Religion is impeding the evolution towards a just society, and convincing people that there is no need to be Alive now, because all the good living happens after death. I could go on and on, but there's not time to wax philosophic right now. I'll save that one for a dedicated post.

Anyhow - yesterday. I busted ass all day trying to write this comprehensive settlement document for a case I know very little about. Towards the end of the day, The Boss comes by my office door to say goodnight. This confused me, and I asked if he wanted to review what I had. He said it was fine for then, and asked me to switch gears and start on another portion of the project. A thankless job. I grinned and said "No problem."

On another note, I have officially been bitched out by East Coast Uncle for not responding to comments. Now that I have been put on notice, I will do my best to be more engaged with readers' responses, because I really do get all super-stoked when people comment, and I would hate to lose that. East Coast Uncle was telling me about some fancy new cancer treatment last night, the name of which I really can't remember... Something about a conspiracy, the asshole Bush administration, the retarded FDA and the evil drug companies. I'm skeptical, but it sounds like it might be interesting to read up on. If East Coast Uncle could post the name of that drug in the comments, I would be fantastically appreciative. I wanted to look it up sometime today while I'm on the clock.

Prospectively Bad Day

Hmm... So, late on Tuesday afternoon, The Boss asked me to take a shot at writing a Settlement Conference Memo. I was not real farmiliar with the case and spent 12 hours yesterday reviewing disclosure statements, depositions, things meant to get me up to speed. I arrived in the office at 6:00am this morning, and am just now beginning to write. I'm not feeling very comfortable about the assignment. I get the feeling these things run 20+ pages, and I have 2+ paragraphs. Mmmrf.

On another bad note, I was informed yesterday that my phone bill from my previous residence in Berkeley, California is about to be sent to collections. Those jerks wouldn't even let me set up a payment plan, which is the first thing collections will do. Cheese and Rice. This will severely impede my plans to get a car. Severely impeded car plans are really bad because, as it stands, I am getting up every morning at 4:30 to take my roomate brother to work. This has left me perpetually exhausted and I don't know how long I can keep it up. Need to find a way to come up with $676.94 in two days. Any suggestions?

Good Job Busting Ass Kid, Now Go Out There and Kill Yourself

The Memo went over well. Really well. Too well?

Lucky for me, the subject matter happened to be employment law, my law school specialty. In addition to covering the question The Boss asked, I took a risk and tagged on an itty-bit about possible alternative theories of liabilty. At first I was afraid, I was petrified....

Sometimes to usually, lawyers don't like it when some youngin mentions something they didn't think of first. Newbie Law Clerk Faux Pas if you will. Happened to me during my 2L summer at a hot-shot San Francisco firm. Doing research, I found case law that looked bad for us. I noted this in a memo, written to the partner leading the case. I labeled it my opinion, but he freaked. Called me into his office and went litigator on me, attempting to convince me I was wrong. I told him I understood his points, but noted opposing counsel would undoubtedly make the argument. He grimaced and things were weird for the rest of the summer. He is currently being sued for malpractice.

Anyhow. Fortunately for me, I did not learn my lesson last summer. Inhibition disorder intact, I went ahead and tried the whole 'overstepping the bounds of my assignment' on New Boss. New Boss liked it. He said "This is really, really good" multiple times in a matter of minutes. I was very excited, thinking "Really? Tell me more." He liked the alternative theories bit and asked for more research soas he can decide whether to try ammending to add them.

So... this was all very, very satisfying for Lex. Then, around 6:00pm, as I'm getting ready to go home (whatever, I can leave at 6:00, I don't make 100k a year), I get called into The Boss' office.

Apparently, there is a document for another case needing to be written stat. The Boss wants me to take a shot at it, which is flattering, but I am worried as I sit here staring at stacks of case information. These medical words are really long, and I lose my train of thought when I have to stop to look them up. There are thousands of pages of deposition testimony I will never be able to read through, understand, and consolidate. I don't see how I can do another "Really, really good"piece of work this time. But I will be trying. And, apparently, living at my desk until late Thursday.

Hmmm. There is a really pretty vase in the office that I just noticed for the first time. If it had a genie in it, all my problems would be solved and I would be at the beach playing guitar.

At First I Was Afraid

I really like The Boss. He's a good guy who does good guy work. The only thing is I am not sure if he likes my work. I put a memo on his chair over an hour ago. My God man, it's been 1.35 hours, not that we keep track around here. Still no word.

Let's all take a moment to throw good vibes my way:

Dear Lex's Boss,

Please, please, please. Be oh so impressed.

All together now.

Mentor 1Ls, Steal their Passwords

Not in My Subscription Whuuuuh???

For those of you in law school: Take this time to thoroughly enjoy your full access WestLaw and Lexis accounts.... Every document I want to view is going to cost me a zillion dollars, because legal research companies are dirty, dirty bastards. When you get halfway through 3L, start making friends with a couple 1Ls, and make sure you get their WL passwords prior to graduation.

I'm just saying, that shit sure would come in handy if you were trying to access an article that costs more per page than gas per gallon.

George Bush is a dirty bastard too.

Puttin Together Motions, Makin' m Sound Right

Day 4 at the new job and The Boss has assigned me to my first ever motion-writing assignment. Never done that before, although I once got to write the lame-ass legal standard portion of someone else's motion last year as a summer law clerk. I hope this goes well.

Dear Howard Hughes, Can I Do Your Laundry?

You May Be a Bit Obsessive-Compulsive Meticulous and detailed oriented, you have some irrational obsessions. Maybe it's your super neat closet or washing your hands a gazillion times. You probably know it's weird, but you just can't stop thinking about it. In fact, the more you think about your quirks, the more you have to do them.

What Personality Disorder Are You?

Scary thing about this is that is absolutely, positively true. I am a bit OCD. I've been told this. I tell other people this. When I was a child, I remember going out of my way to make sure I chewed my food equally on both sides of my mouth. I would count bites, switching every five times. I also used to make sure each foot would step on sidewalk squares an equal number of times. And if my foot landed on the line, I had to make sure that, the next time I stepped on a line, it would be with the other foot. In fairness, I never cared which side of my mother's back I was about to break.

These days, I've come to terms with my OCD. I've given myself outlets for it, to manage my insanity. Mostly, this gets released in my laundry. I won't let other people do my laundry, and things have to be folded 'just so.' People just don't understand the importance of hanging pants seam to seam or making sure the collar of a shirt is perfectly centered when doing the triple-fold Gap technique. I've been known to go into stores and refold clothing on display. Sometimes, I try to let it go, and not think about the bad folding job... but it gets stuck in my head and I can't let go of it. I usually end up going back to it.

Hm. I really am just like that Mark Summers guy from Double-Dare who went all nutty-clean-freak. I read somewhere that he used to go home and spend hours striaghtening the tassles on an area rug in his house. Well, maybe I saw that on a VH1 special. But I'll stick with the having read it somewhere story, that just sounds better.