ladymirth

I woke up today with a major stomach upset and a cleaning mania. Seriously, I have been on a psychotic cleaning spree for hours on an empty stomach. 

My room is now in a frightening, positively communist state of organization and cleanliness. I only stopped when I caught myself color-coding my laundry basket. 

I believe I am now qualified to write the book on it. "The Psyche of the Mad Serial Cleaner".

I figured out where the cleaning fit came from, though. It was from the only thing  do better than cleaning: procastinating. Because today I was supposed to do research for my projects on Art History, American Government and Critical Thinking, not to mention look up colleges. Instead, I went and did the following:

1. Purged, dusted, alphabetized and re-arranged my book rack.
2. Sifted through all my files and papers and organized the lot.
3. Threw away all my old cosmetic bottles.
4. Dusted my whole room.
5. Re-organized my memory box. (A huge white thing on wheels.)
6. Turned out and organized my entire wardrobe.
7. Turned out all my purses and did my monthly expenditure account sheet. (Something I never do.)
8. Aired out and changed my bed linen.
9. Found my goggles.
10. Color-coded my shoe rack.
11. Color-coded the laundry basket.

Hence, the quivering state of unaccustomed cleanliness. Everything has been positioned at exact right angles, including the pillows. The OCD is creeping me out. I made a feeble attempt to mess up a pillow, just out of rebellion, but it glared at me reproachfully till I went and righted it back to its state of artificial conformity. 

Sometimes, I suspect I need professional help.  

On the plus side, it's amazing how much you can get done when you're procrastinating.

P.S: All the surviving issues of the Reader's Digest that we own, from 2001 to 2008, are arranged chronologically. And I don't even remember doing it.