There I was a couple of days ago in the middle of a sand trap on one of the local golf courses. Being the sportsmanlike person that I am, I grabbed the rake and smoothed out any trace of my presence in the sand so as not to disturb the next poor guy. As I carefully tended to the landscape, not only did I straighten out my own footprints, I was also taking care of some inconsiderate predecessor's as well. Consciously even, not by accident. This could only mean one thing: I'm an obsessive compulsive person (and I leap to conclusions rather quickly).
There is further evidence. At magazine racks in newstands I've been known to rearrange errant magazines so that they're back in their proper place. After all, we can't have FHM covering up the Time stack, can we? And how about the grocery store? I can't stand having the tomato paste oozing over into the tomato
sauce section. And God forbid that the vanilla and butterscotch flavored Jell-O puddings should intermingle.
So there you have it, only one possible explanation - obsessive compulsive.
Or a neatnik maybe.