Mountain air is like soap and water for your lungs. As long as you are not standing next to a man smoking a pipe.
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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
(279)
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December
(23)
- Too quick to judge.
- A plot twist.
- O Christmas Tree!
- O Christmas Tree?
- No way to treat Santa.
- Joy to all Hygieneistas.
- Spreading the clean.
- Christmas in a blender.
- Festive and antibacterial.
- Inhale.
- Paper towels and Anna.
- Hello little paper clip.
- It is the thought that counts.
- As it should be.
- Breaking news.
- Strange Friday on Sunday.
- Strange Thursday.
- Strange Wednesday.
- Strange Tuesday.
- Strange Monday.
- This was just in my co-worker's mouth.
- Two questions.
- Internal housekeeping.
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December
(23)
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