The Skeleton in My Closet

As a child I was never too concerned with orderliness. I appreciated a tidy room and a made bed, but I through a fit when my mom asked me to do Saturday chores, just like every other kid in America.

As an adult, a home owner, wife and mother I find myself becoming more and more concerned with perfection around the house. It makes me ill to see a dirty bathroom counter top. I have to keep my carpet vacuumed (with labradors I find sanity in vacuuming at least twice a week) and my tables dusted.

I have come to the realization that my husband created within me an obsessive compulsive disorder of orderliness. By looking in to his closet this morning my neck and shoulders got very tense, my upper lip began to quiver and I heard myself rambling in sentences I didn't understand.

I now know that I have to keep the rest of my house tidy because there is such an enormous amount of disarray in his closet that my O.C.D. creates an equilibrium in our home (or perhaps in my own mind).