The other day, I found myself folding the folds of my umbrella along the original creases, before wrapping the strap around to close it. A few weeks later, I took a black sweater out of the dryer that I had accidentally washed with a white towel, and spent no less than an hour picking off every piece of white fuzz I could see, until it looked like a shaved poodle. That was when I knew I had become my mom.

I've never been a total slob, but never in a million years did I think I'd someday be totally neurotic/borderline OCD about completely random things like umbrella creases and sweater fuzz. I really love my mom, good and bad, but I feel like I'm just a few years away from being afraid of online bill pay and locking my suitcase anytime I leave a hotel room.