The C part of OCD

I can't leave bubble wrap alone. When I get something in the mail that's wrapped in bubble wrap, I carefully set it aside, tingling in anticipation. I inspect the items received. Carefully put them away. And then I sit down with my compulsion. My bubble wrap. My Precious.

And now the O part of OCD. People who pop the bubbles all willy nilly drive me up the fucking wall. You must pop them in order, right to left, top to bottom. And you can't stop me. No, sorry, I don't care what it is you think you want or need from me, I'm not done popping bubbles. Go away.