Mike makes lists. Sometimes they are physical, with character scrawls and doodles attached to chores like, "clean recycling bin" and a picture of a soldier clutching what appears to be an automatic hose. Sometimes they are abstract, mere phrases mumbled into my ear before I fall asleep or upon awakening. These to-do and to don't-do lists are his daily compendium. Lately, they've been driving me absolutely crazy.

I mean, I get it, dont get me wrong, I realize that he needs this quasi structure in his life so that he can avoid the soap that some people need to fuel the opera that will define their day. But it just seems as if of late, its become a Linus blanket of sorts.

He keeps all of his lists and notes in a five-by-seven inch sketchbook he bought on sale at the bookstore. Colorful sticky notes flick out from every edge, while envelopes decorated with tight scribbling are jammed between the covers. An old braided friendship bracelet found at the park marks his most current page. It's all beautifully ugly and I don't know what he'll do when he reaches the last page.

Or maybe he won't reach the last page.

I woke up this morning to find Mike pulling open all the drawers in the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

Open the drawer. SLAM. Open. SLAM. He didn't look at me, but rather spoke to the contents of the silverware drawer.

"Looking for my notebook. What did you do with it?"

My eyes averted, I changed the subject. "What do you want for dinner tonight?"

"I want my damn notebook, Sandy."

I didn't throw away the notebook but I knew who did-- last night our mutual friend Derek had come to visit me and we decided it was best that the book be discarded. "He's got OCD," Derek had said. "This book keeps him trapped in his own thoughts and away from real life."

When nobody else has a life, a guy like Mike gives everybody a purpose! The PURPOSE is to annoy the shit out of Mike. The more assholes, more jokes, less TV hours, some fun new hobby! He does this, he said that, he wrote that, he slept on this, he breathed like that... he even scratched his balls to the sink while washing dishes! Let's take some more of his stuff, ours are crap!

The ultimate purpose is to practice-- practice communicating by stealing from Mike, disrupting Sandy and giving Derek a guilt trip. (Mike never does watch TV; he gets agitated and keeps changing the channels because of his OCD. He likes to fill his notebooks so why would anyone try to interfere with that simple pleasure, he wonders, with his balls against the sink. Why does he do anything?) The power of pushing Mike over the edge...

When nobody else has a hobby, a guy like Mike gives everybody one juicy preoccupation! It would be sad, if had meaning.

And that is how life is, I thought to myself as I watched Mike upend the laundry basket on the living room floor. Mike's friends obsessed about his notebook, his habits, because who the hell would want to look at their own? Mike's were larger than life. We could all pretend that we were fine as long as Mike made his lists of Mary J. Blige hits and anagrams for the word "asshole."