The Neat Freak: My Story. (CNF)

"And why are you cleaning that chair again?" My cousin asked, looking at me as if I've been bewitched, and then she continued. "It's not as if anyone poured dirt on it."

"I know, so just mind your business. Don't even turn me into one of your topics, please." I responded.

"Huhm, only you understand why you're like this." She said and sighed.

I just smiled, since explaining seems a little difficult for me.

Well, that was how she indirectly asked if I was crazy or something. And that wasn't the only time such a thing would happen.

I happen to be someone who loves cleanliness. Likewise, I love to arrange things.

There was a time when I was still in school. I just got an apartment, and a friend came to visit. So, he kind of forced me to come out and take fresh air, because I love staying indoors. As we stepped out, I saw how dirty the corridor was. I just went back in, took my broom, and swept the whole veranda.

"You're too neat for my liking." My friend said.

I just smiled as I went in to take a rag to clean the benches. As I was cleaning it, one of my neighbors looked at me and said, "Mr Man, are you sure you are okay? Is that not the bench everyone's been sitting on and standing up from since."

"But I just swept, and there's dust on it." I responded.

"You're not okay." She said, laughing.

I just joined in the laughter too. But deep down, I was just wondering if maybe I was really okay.

There was a period in my life when it seemed everything started. I've always been the neat type, though, but after the incident it increased. I battled an illness that required that I be very neat at all times because a part of my organ was out, and it must not for any reason or in any way get contaminated or affected. So, maybe that was the beginning of "crazy" for me.

So, it happened that one of the caterers/event planners I work for actually did complain, even though she love and respected the fact that I was neat, as it was a very important criterion in our work.

"Leave the tablecloth like that." She said.

"I just thought I could quickly wash it; it's stained at the edge." I replied.

"Why do you just like stressing yourself? Are you the only one here." She said.

"I'm sorry, ma." I responded, my hands paused.

She just hissed and left. Immediately she left,none of her assistants came to me, looked me in the eye, shook her head, and said.

"You know I've been watching you since."

"Me?" I asked, surprised.

*"Yes, you. You worry yourself too much. It's not as if they will pay you extra. And this particular event won't be a crowded one. So, it's possible no one would sit at this particular table." She said.

"Alright, Ma, thank you, Ma."

"Hope you're not angry." She said, with a tone that suggests she wants to know if she hasn't said too much.

"Ohhh, not at all, ma'am." I replied with a smile.

That was all I could say, I just stood there wondering, all eyes are on me already, I could hear the whispers of my fellow mates, "is he the only one," "he does too much," "maybe he wants our boss to favour him more..."

I was glued, because how do I explain that it's not about the money; it's just who I am. Out of fear, I picked up my phone, rushed out and searched the Internet with trembling hands, I got to know about OCD, I read about it trying to figure out something that fits, that align, but I couldn't find any that suggest I have OCD. It's just me.

During my second year in school, I stayed in a one-room apartment where I had to share the bathroom and toilet with three other neighbors of mine. I remember an exam time when a friend asked if she could come around and stay at my place. Before then, my room had become the space for everyone. They come in, go out, sleep over, and all. Some even love to just come disturb me by disarranging everything and then running out. I would again put everything in order and mop the floor. Most people love my room, first for its cleanliness/orderliness and secondly because you would hardly believe it was owned by a male. The colors, the paint, the curtain, the bedspread, and the light on the wall all screamed female. And that was the other thing most people call me "crazy" for, because why would you do things and have your room designed like that of a female?

So, this friend of mine came by after I'd agreed she could come. Her place is far from school, and my place is a trekable distance to school. So, it's understandable. The day she arrived, I had just finished washing the toilet. Immediately I stepped out of the toilet; she came in through the front door too. We exchanged pleasantries and stepped in.

"Don't put that back there." That was the first thing I told her immediately we entered. She had dropped her bag on the bed.

"Ah, sorry, commander in chief of the order of clean people." She replied, laughing.

"And why are you just taking your bath at this time." She added.

"I've taken my bath since morning, wanted to go ease myself, and found out that the place is messed up." I replied.

"So?" She asked.

"I took care of it." I replied.

"Why must you? I hope you're fine upstairs? Don't you think you're doing too much? You have roosters for this thing, don't you? Come to think of it, your flatmates are all females; they should be in charge." She said.

"Well, they are. I just can't stand the mess." I replied.

"You must be out of your mind, better go for checkup, I'm sure your neighbors already think you're crazy..." She said.

"Come on, I'm fine, believe me. I just love clean spaces, nothing more." I Replied.

"Huhm" she sighed, looking at me with a different kind of eyes.

*"Don't you love what you see,"*I said looking around the room, then continued, "I'm never the type to be caught unaware when visitors arrive. Mind you, I just love it for myself." I said

Not because of anyone,"* I quickly added.

"It shows." He responded almost immediately.

We talked a little more, and I'm glad that she at least understood me.

The tension from that day stayed with me, and a few weeks later, I went home for Christmas.

"Because you came now, we won't rest..."

That was what my brother said when I cautioned him about how he flings his clothes and shoes around.

"Well, you can send me back." I replied

He looked at me, shook his head, and then asked me, "Where did you get this thing from?"

"Which thing?" I asked, even though I knew what he was referring to.

"This neatness of yours is a thing." He said, pointing, to describe the neatness of everywhere.

"Well, everybody has something; this is just mine." I replied with a smile.

"Huhm, well, at least yours is not harmful. So, what's mine." He asked.

"I don't know; if it's not obvious, then you need to study yourself more." I replied to him, smiling.

So, I've come to just accept myself for who I am. I no longer explain myself to people like I used to. I just allow them to say what they want, and I stopped checking/asking myself if I was okay or not as well.

I know "I'm not crazy." I'm just someone who loves cleanliness and orderliness in a world where everything is messy and disorganized. And believe me, that thing about me doesn't make me strange or different; rather, it makes me sane.

Seasons greetings🌹

Images are AI generated.

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