I am a penny magnet. And a contradiction. Truth be told, when I see a penny I have to pick it up for luck. Before you faint as a result of this admission, I always have some form of plastic on me so I can pick pennies up without direct contact. I have only passed on picking up a penny once. That was in London, England. As it turned out it was a lucky penny after all because had I stopped to pick it up I would have been wiped out by a scooter. I acknowledge this to be twisted logic. The only such admission you will ever get from me.
This used to really perplex me when I first befriended your daughter Alexa. She wouldn't touch door handles but would pick pennies up off the most disgusting sidewalks. Now it all comes together.
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.
This used to really perplex me when I first befriended your daughter Alexa. She wouldn't touch door handles but would pick pennies up off the most disgusting sidewalks. Now it all comes together.
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