The story so far:
If my hand's aren't busy--if they're not typing away at a keyboard or brushing my hair or writing down some random thought--they're picking. They pick at the hangnails that grace 90% of my nails. They pick at the stray hairs on my shirt. They pick at the zit that's been on my chin for days. They pick at my fingernails, trimming them by ripping millimeters off the edges. They pick at those few hairs I missed when shaving my legs. And I don't even have OCD.