Neat Freak

"Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work" -Gustave Flaubert

I am a neat freak. Even as a child my room was always clean. Stuffed animals carefully arrayed by color and category, bed always made without being told. It has become something of a compulsion for me. I shudder when things are out of place and attack any speck of visible dirt without mercy. Things in my house are constantly being "spruced".
My mother is a deep cleaner, believing that every surface should be clean enough to eat off of; I am a tidier, believing every surface should look good enough to eat. When I was young I imagined "what if" scenarios in which a beloved band's tour bus (typically, New Kids on the Block) would break down in front of my house, and woe to me if my room was not tidy for their arrival. As I have gotten older my interests have evolved. I now want to be prepared should the president drop by. (Which, living in southern Ohio during an election year is not outside the realm of possibility.) I mean, I wouldn't want the leader of the free world to think the citizenry unkempt. Just in case, my socks are neatly folded, closets arranged by color, and dishes always washed. I do not know why the president would look in my sock drawer, but how could I possibly discern the concerns of a person of such great importance.
This has been both a bane to partygoers at my house, as I follow them around, emptying ash trays and applying coasters on the sly. And a boon to my romantic life as it makes me appear-at least superficially-extremely domestic. I once had a boyfriend who was even neater than me. He was perpetually purging his wardrobe and apartment of any extraneous stuff that even hinted at clutter (what an aphrodisiac!) But this relentless pursuit does become a burden at times, as the realities of wear and tear-the things that make a life full-are inevitably going to bring with them some disarray. Sigh, well nothing and nobody is perfect. But I'm working on it.