Now I have witnesses to my every compulsion. My husband and daughter see, for example, my deep need for the garbage cans to go out like clockwork on Sunday night.
“Why are you so obsessed with taking the garbage out?” they ask.
I’d love to give them an answer, but my hunger for knowing has evaporated over time. I’m not sure there is an answer for why we delight in these private, idiosyncratic rituals.
More importantly, It’s not about why the compulsion affects me; it’s about how my compulsion affects others.