When in Paris I also stayed at Hotel d'Aubusson on the Left Bank. I found this area far more interesting than the Right Bank. There was more of everything here. Bakeries. Art Galleries. Dog poop. Hotel wise, it was far more difficult to find one that matched my particular criteria. What I very much liked at Hotel d'Aubusson were the automatic front doors. They worked perfectly every time and I didn't have to concern myself with having cash on hand for a doorman. Dropping money from a plastic bag or tissue is always awkward. Even for the Hygiene Hunter. The lack of a doorman didn't hinder hotel security either because the entrance is monitored by front desk staff via cameras.Hit.
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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