you down with ocd? yeah, you know me

It started out simple enough….

“Keys.”

When I was a kid and going out somewhere, I’d always mentally check to make sure that I was carrying my house keys when necessary. Usually, someone was always at our house, but hey, you never knew. Better safe than locked out and forced to live behind the rusty aluminum shed in the wilds of our suburban backyard for the rest of my childhood, which of course, was *certainly* a possibility.

[On a side note, I never left the house without clean underwear on—a habit I still have today. I just never have to check to make sure they’re still in place.]

“Keys. Wallet.”

When I got to my teens and had money to spend on a lifestyle that was more involved than playing baseball or exploring abandoned construction sites—i.e., when I was able to drive and go to real places like the mall or video game arcade, or even the video game arcade at the mall—the checklist got longer. Now I needed to carry a wallet, along with all the responsibility that comes with it: driver’s license, cash, my Sears credit card, a library card, that one hopeful condom … you know, grownup stuff.

“Keys. Wallet. Phone.”

Hard to believe that I existed for 14 decades without a cell phone, but yet somehow I managed. Like many of the best modern conveniences (EZ Pass, the intrawebz, sliced bread), now that I have it in my life, I can’t live without it. I mean, when you think about it, cell phones may be the greatest innovation of the 21st century in that they literally can put the entirety of humankind’s knowledge—plus The Bloggess and celebrity flesh—right in the palm of your hand. Oh, and I even actually use my phone to call people on occasion (that’s okay, right?).

 “Keys. Wallet. Phone. Glasses.”

I’ve already described that as I’ve stumbled into my advanced years that my eyesight has deteriorated and that I now need reading glasses. And like with the phone, even though glasses weren’t part of my life a short time ago, they have quickly become indispensable. Gah.

So yeah, it’s funny now when I get to the threshold of the house, I give myself an odd little patdown, touching the various pockets in which I usually carry each of these items. When I was up in Cortland at Jets training camp, my buddy Brian would tease me as I went through my little ritual, repeating it throughout the day to make sure I had my stuff.

I can only assume as I get older, this trend will continue, with me adding more and more items to my repertoire …

“Keys. Wallet. Phone. Glasses. Sweater.”

I’m already close to this—the other night we went to the movies and I made sure to bring my jacket with me … because the theater *might‘ve* had the a/c on in October. That … or my old heart can’t quite pump the blood like it used to and my extremities are always cold.

“Keys. Wallet. Phone. Glasses. Sweater. Batteries.”

You know, for my pacemaker, hearing aid, Life Alert bracelet, iron lung and whatever other necessary electronic medical devices with which I’ll be festooned.

“Keys. Wallet. Phone. Glasses. Sweater. Batteries. Cane.”

That one seems obvious.

“Keys. Wallet. Phone. Glasses. Sweater. Batteries. Cane. Change.”

I assume that because old guys seem to spend a lot of time jingling change in their pocket, there’s something either enjoyable or calming about it. I don’t want to miss out on the fun!

“Keys. Wallet. Phone. Glasses. Sweater. Batteries. Cane. Change. Change of underwear …”

Yeah, I guess that’ll be full circle, although let’s be honest:

“Keys. Wallet. Phone. Glasses. Sweater. Batteries. Cane. Change. Change of Depends.”

Simple, indeed.