The elderly gentleman lived a life of obsession. He had to have things a particular way, and there were no two ways about it. Everything had a place and a position, and God forbid if you should move something.
He reminded me of my late mother-in-law, who was also a person where everything was where it was supposed to be for a reason. If we gave her a present for Christmas or for her birthday, it sent her into a tailspin, because it meant moving something that had been set in stone forever. Just for fun one day, I moved a knick-knack on the stand by her chair just a smidgen, but it was enough for her to notice the discrepancy. She stopped dead in her tracks, and readjusted the object back to its designated location.
He reminds me of her. His meticulous cutting of the lawn with scissors and his perfectly positioned items in his work area are classic OCD characteristics. I admire him for his attention to detail, even down to the perfectly stacked papers and the bulletin board that has been arranged down to the centimeter between spaced notes. Does he do this to remind himself, or is his modus operandi based on something else.
I may have to broach the subject some day, but for now, as long as he is happy with things as they are, then who am I to say otherwise?