The headmaster of a culinary school told me that if you were to eat wasabi with every meal you would never succumb to food poisoning. That's because it acts as an internal antibacterial agent. So when my husband came back from the restroom at Roca in London, England and told me a wait staff didn't wash their hands according to North American health standards -- soap, water and Happy Birthday -- I was indifferent. Yes, the Hygiene Hunter said, "Let's order pork sashimi." That's because I am a good pupil. I very much enjoyed the food at this Japanese restaurant despite my significant other's keen eye. Hit & Miss.
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.
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