To clean or not to

I believe that I'm turning into a clean-freak. It is something that I've been noticing in myself lately. Everything around me has to be spotless, organized and clean. Last week with my house brimming with family I was constantly cleaning up after people......I ran the laundry every single day.....I cleaned and vacuumed and tidied up given half a chance. And trust me with little kids running around and throwing food everywhere it was not easy. You see lately we've have been keeping the house spotless and to see rice strewn across the dining room rug or spilled curry on the table cloth or coffee stains on the kitchen counter or toys laid out strategically at the bottom of the stairs is well....disturbing. My counter tops have to be gleaming, spotless......my floors clean and sparkling.....my rugs smelling fresh and clean.....everything needs to be in the right place or else we call it "clutter". You get my point, right? I know what you are thinking and trust me, I am thinking the exact same thing. This reaction is not normal. Some folks may call it OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) but honestly it's not that bad. Yet.

And I blame it all on B because he is the one who started it and considering the kind of influence he has on me this freaky cleanliness is creeping onto me quite steadily. You see, I was so unlike this. When I was living with my parents my room was the only eye-sore in the entire house. My parents are both neat and clean people. They believe in keeping the house spotless too. Both of them. Usually the women in the house are the ones who are tidying up and keeping things clean. But in our house even my Dad would do his share. He would clean up after he used the bathroom, wipe off all the water from the faucet after his morning shower to prevent water marks and stains. I used to complain that our house did not feel like a home because it was too clean, too nice, more like a model home. It did not have a lived-in look or feel to it. In contrast my room had books all over the place, clothes hanging across the back of my chair, stuff everywhere. That was me. And that is what made me comfortable.

And now, this is me. The very same person who enjoyed disorder and chaos to give a place the lived-in feel. Now she freaks out when things are not in order. I can't believe this is happening to me. OCD? Nooooooo. I don't wash my hands compulsively. I don't check the lock on the door a million times each night. I'm still normal, right?