I’m a confessed neat freak. I love cleaning and organization. This morning I spent a moment cleaning the craft room (ask me if I do crafts–lol), and cleaning off the countertops in there. I use the room for my sewing machine, ironing board, and catch all for stuff. Mostly, it’s neat as a pin. Cocoa, the Yorkie, sleeps in there and loves her spot by the heater register.
Some people get a “rush” from chocolate or some food or maybe exercise. While I enjoy that, I get a rush from a clean and neat environment. My office is never messy. You can always see my desk top. If I have a paper that needs to be filed, I file it. A letter that has to be answered, I answer it. I guess you could say I’m a textbook case on being a neat freak.
I pondered if I was always this way. I can’t recollect being excited about cleaning my room when I was little. I know when I lived in my own apartment, my place was always spit-spot. Living as an adult single woman, my home was immaculate and you could sleep on my garage floor. My tools were lined up nicely, my cars have always been parked in the garage.
I will concede, as I get older, that propensity to always be cleaning has “somewhat” subsided. I now have help to clean my home every other week. With six bathrooms, it’s rather nice to have that handled for me. But I do fuss over nit-picky things. If I see lint on the carpet, I pick it up. A spot on my kitchen floor, I wash the floor.
My husband says I’m obsessed . . . well, I love you dear, but I believe your “obsession” is the polar opposite of mine. Perhaps in our old age, we can meet in the middle. I’ll be more sloppy if you be more neat. And if you can’t, I’ll still love you anyway. I kind of like how your office is always a disaster. Makes me feel like I give you latitude. The old me would have had that baby sparkling every day. See–you can teach an old broad new tricks.