When I was a little girl, before all my OCD tendancies were mistaken for kooky behavior I remember that I liked everything to be in it's place. I didn't like things to be crooked, or off balance. One day when my mom pulled a sheet of cookies out of the oven, she sort of just threw it on the counter. One corner was hanging off of the counter, basically the sheet of cookies was sitting at an odd angle. I was old enough to know better, yet I reached out and grabbed the corner to straighten out the cookie sheet, immediatly burning my hand. As I yelped in pain my mother asked, "What the hell did you do that for? You saw me pull that out of the oven...."

I couldn't help it, something deep inside drove me to put my hand on the hot metal, I had to fix it, and it didn't matter that I would be burned.

I'm still burning myself on cookie sheets today, if by cookie sheets we're talking about Batman.

I know that I'm going to get burned, but I can't help it, I keep reaching out and grabbing the hot metal.