My parents say I’m crazy, my sisters say I’m insane, and my friends say that sometimes I kind of frighten them… but I like to say I’m a perfectionist.
I have self-diagnosed myself with OCD, and if you knew me you’d know why. I’ve never been tested for the disorder (can you be tested for OCD?), but the way I live my life is not exactly “normal.” It sometimes takes me 15 minutes to make my bed because wrinkles and bumps make me cringe. The same thing can be said about folding my laundry, although that usually takes a lot longer for me to do. I remember one day I was folding my clothes in my room after I had just washed them and my mom walked in, stood there for a minute and watched, then turned around sighing and said, “You scare me.”
Cleaning my room doesn’t mean picking up clothes off of the floor and shoving them in drawers like it does for most young adults. Cleaning my room means taking everything out, pledging, windexing, vacuuming, and frebreezing, and then reorganizing everything into its perfect place. Sometimes I’ll kind of black out doing it and wake up with every piece of clothing out of my drawers and all refolded neatly and color coordinated on my bed. I know, it’s weird. This happens at least once a week.
Cleaning is my way of relieving stress. Some people workout, others read a book or listen to music, and I clean. Ask my roommates, I’ve said more than once, “Nothing makes me happier than a clean house.” I mean I have my own purple rubber cleaning gloves that I always use. Sometimes I even clean those for God sakes. Ok, maybe I’m a little crazy.
The fact that I’m a total control freak and germaphobe might contribute to this insanity as well. I never leave the house without my trusty green apple germ-x hand sanitizer.
So, all of you who have ever looked at me like I have two heads, I’ve always been this way and I will always be this way so ya’ll are just going to have to learn to accept it. And stop laughing at me. Also, if you ever need a cleaning lady, I charge $50 an hour.