Why do they not feature an ashtray like this on Mad Men?
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About me.
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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Blog Archive
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2010
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June
(23)
- This is a problem.
- They heard I was coming.
- Not so sexy.
- This is what rejection looks like.
- A frightening thought.
- A poet's turn.
- This. I. Like.
- Nice try.
- Bad Things. Day 5.
- Bad Things. Day 4.
- Bad Things. Day 3.
- Bad Things. Day 2.
- Bad Things. Day 1.
- Decision made.
- A conundrum.
- Allow him.
- Packaging with a conscience.
- Hygiene never sleeps.
- Find it before they do.
- Oinkers.
- Nowhere to hide.
- My room or yours?
- Add this to my Rider.
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June
(23)
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