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When I got back from the post office today, the first thing I did was wash my hands. Then I opened the mail, and I was suddenly overcome with an uncontrollable urge to wash my hands again. What has always been a mild obsession has become a sort of compulsion (if there’s even a difference). I’ve always washed my hands many times during the course of the day, even though I hardly ever leave the house or have contact with other humans. Now I’m becoming even more reclusive, and even more fixated on keeping my hands clean.
It’s a good thing I’m obsessed with washing my hands, because I’m also somehow compelled to touch my face. It’s these allergies, I think. I’m forever rubbing my eyes and scratching my nose. I pull at my chin, too, but I don’t think that has anything to do with allergies. I don’t know where that habit comes from. Something prehistoric and evolutionary, maybe. Or maybe I just think it makes me look wise and thoughtful.
As anyone who knows me can tell you, I’m not obsessive about cleanliness in general. I tend to let things go. I don’t live in filth, exactly, but I do live in clutter. I don’t mind clutter, and I don’t mind cobwebs and dust balls all that much, either. Nobody comes around to criticize, and there’s no one to impress, so any cleaning I do would be to satisfy myself only. And I’m pretty satisfied with a few stains and scratches here and there. I don’t think you can catch anything by visiting my house, although I do understand your caution. |
