Oddly enough I still bought my market vegetables from this vendor. Hey, as long as THAT does not come in contact with any of the produce, it is all cool.
Fresh baked buns rising in the produce aisle masking the aromas of hand picked Kale and snap peas. This should make any hunter beware, he's almost famous as we peer at his half masked anus.
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.
Fresh baked buns rising in the produce aisle masking the aromas of hand picked Kale and snap peas. This should make any hunter beware, he's almost famous as we peer at his half masked anus.
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