Immaculate hallways are just as important as immaculate rooms. The hallway leading to my room at the Connaught was perfect. The air was fresh, the carpet free of stains, lint and small critters, and the walls were in mint condition. God Bless wide hallways. I have never checked out of a hotel because of dinged walls, but they do make me think less of an establishment. Particular. Check. Obsessed. Check. While the Connaught has recently undergone a multi-million dollar renovation, it is clear excellent housekeeping practices are followed. I can't wait to open the door to my room. Hit.
I am turning into a B-class version hygiene hunter, by being CONSCIOUS of my frequent unconsciousness, such as currently, my bare feet on the brownish rug of a 5-star hotel, IN THE SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE.
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.
I am turning into a B-class version hygiene hunter, by being CONSCIOUS of my frequent unconsciousness, such as currently, my bare feet on the brownish rug of a 5-star hotel, IN THE SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE.
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