For some reason, I aspire to be them.

I suppose I love their psychotic efficiency. To me it screams "PERFECT!!!!!"

And I love being clean. But 'love' is so paltry a way of putting it. I WORSHIP being clean

I daydream of containers, tools to organize your life, and designer cleaning products.

"You're weird" someone said to me when I confessed my passion for cleaning. But I find it very peaceful.

I feel centered when my outside world sparkles. It is peace when my things are in order.

When I'm on my knees picking shit off the floor or scrubbing and I lift the soiled rag to my eyes, I smile.

Maybe it has something to do with my maid-heritage.