Something is seriously wrong with me these days. I was not at all like this. Even after marriage I was not like this. Recently, from the day I had to manage the home all by myself, I have been affected with it.

I have become a cleanliness freak.

That does not mean, I used to live in muck and mess earlier. When I was single, my room would be shabby, unless someone came visiting, the books would be lying haphazardly all over, the reading light would be dusty and the pillow would always be on the floor rather than the bed. When I moved in with Zack, I felt heartened to know I was in a better position than him, though only slightly.

Like the difference between chaos and ordered chaos šŸ˜‰

I was not too particular about how he dumped his clothes in the wardrobe or the way he messed up mine while taking ‘that white shirt’ from his pile. The iron box would always be sleeping on the bed the whole day, at nights it would be unceremoniously placed at the foot of the bed, because it did not have any dedicated place for itself. In the dresser there would be the stapler along with the comb and a pencil entangled with the hair-bands.

It was the same until a couple of weeks ago. A chance look at the kitchen window sill started on the onset of this clean-it-now syndrome. Then it spread to the whole eco-system of my place. Right from the garden to the loft. From the wardrobe to the puja-room. From the main-gate to the hinges of the windows. In the morning rush of fixing breakfast and packing lunch, I would not getting into this cleaning business. But come Saturday-Sunday and I would be all this-should-be-cleaned-today-mode. The back-breaking weekend routine got into Zack’s nerves, since I was keeping him constantly moving from one room to another along with whining how the chimney top got so much grime.

Yesterday, the vacationing party returned with the tiredness of a 20 day journey and stories to last at least a month. While the suitcases were opened to disperse the goodies, I was checking the ever-increasing perimeter of the unloaded clothes, food packets and stuff.After dinner was done, I was itching to clean up the area before I retired to bed. But I was told, to leave it like that.

Tell me now, there is seriously something wrong with me no šŸ˜„

P.SĀ  You know you are grown up and a home-maker when you get souvenirsĀ like a handcrafted wooden belan and a marble agarbatti stand. Sigh! I am still wallowing in grief.