I lived in small town out in the desert and my friend used to steal his mom's car in the middle of the night. He'd drive over to my house I'd sneak out and we'd go out to the desert and just burn things down.
To say that I am organized is an understatement but my car tells a different story.
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So I remember when I was a kid I was waiting for my mom to come home when she was working late and you know I was like 'Oh my God what happened to her? Is she OK? Did something happen to her getting in the car?' I was a little kid. But those are actually early onsets of anxiety.
