I always hated it when my mom left home. I am, and always was, incredibly close to her and felt sad and nervous when she wasn’t around. Because of this, it was a big production for me every time she left me at home because I was, and am, a crybaby. At first I would stand by the back door, located in the kitchen, and wave as she backed her car out of the driveway. Then, I would act as though I were a race announcer and yell, “On your mark, get set, go cat go,” before she was allowed to drive away. It eventually evolved to include a hand routine with it where I wrote the words in the air with my finger. Seeing as I was a small child, you can imagine how long this took, and if she dared to move before I was done, we had to start over. Maybe I should have known then that I had OCD?