Come on, admit it. We all have our quirks, those little habits we stick to religiously.
I suppose you could call it a mild form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, where the same routine has to be carried out or the day will be ruined.
Mine manifests itself at the petrol station, where I have to fill up with fuel that comes to round numbers multiplied by 10. If I go a penny over £40, then I must keep going until I get to £50.
A friend does it differently. She always goes for an odd number, such as £39.87. But the reason is to do with logic rather than OCD.
She says it’s easier to see what she’s spent on fuel when she gets her credit card statement.
Aren’t women so wonderfully practical?