I leave tomorrow for San Francisco and I'm staying in the same hotel I stayed in on my last visit there just three months ago. For Hygiene Hunter fun, I've requested the same room. The room had just been renovated on my previous visit and the mattress was stain-free. Any guesses as to the condition I will find it in? The hotel knows Eva Polis is checking in, but they don't know I'm the Hygiene Hunter. It's like being Bruce Wayne.
Three verifiable things about me. One. I am an only child. The concept of sharing, therefore, is foreign to me. Two. I am a Virgo. The sign regarded as a perfectionist. Three. My mother raised me to be meticulously clean; compulsively tidy. According to my mother, "You have taken this clean thing way too far." I disagree. Apologies to my mother.
Nature or nurture? Who knows? Who cares? I have not been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Nor would I label myself a Cleanaholic. Or a Germaphobe. My world though, is definitely a unique place. One where doors open magically. Hotel mattresses are pristine. And estheticians never double dip.
I live in this world without a bubble or a honeycomb mask. About 15 years ago I got tired of catching the flu du jour and became ever more so hygienically vigilant -- perhaps obsessively so.
Bruce Wayne would most likely hang the mattress out like a villan from the exterior facade of the hotel.
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