This was New York about one month ago. I enjoyed it immensely. Central Park looked amazing. The air smelled super fresh. That's because No ONE was smoking while walking. At least no one on my insane-but-fun-in-it's-snowing-no-it's-raining-no-wait-it's-snraining-way-walk from the Meatpacking district to the Mercer Hotel in SoHo. That's because people were either holding onto their umbrellas with both hands or they were creating makeshift protection from shopping bags. The one time plastic is still more popular than paper. Taxis were not impossible to catch, but definitely more difficult. I did not miss riding in a more-often-than-not dirty NYC taxi. 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.
Were you an extra in NY? This looks like fake movie snow
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