The underground OCD club

I reckon I'm a pretty neat person, although not compulsively so. I mean, I'm not the type of person who is distracted into cleaning imaginary specks of dust from the tabletop as you're trying to hold a normal conversation with them. Or the type of person who is obsessively polishing their glasses all the time. (Polishing the phone, I will have you all know before you jump down my throat, is an entirely different matter. Entirely.)

So I was more than slightly non-plussed when Delta happened to notice my shoe collection the other day, all lined up neatly against the wall, and took it upon himself to start laughing at me. "Look at them!" He spluttered, "they're arranged like little soldiers, all standing up at attention side by side!"
Suddenly, I felt embarrassed about the neat row of shoes I'd been so proud of. I quietly reached over with my toe and nudged one of my boots into toppling over, so that there was a modicum of disarray (and therefore normalcy) in the ranks. Since then, every morning I glance over at my shoes and make sure that there is at least one turned over, or out of order, in the row. And that little display of disorder, while on the one hand irking my sensibilities, on the other offers me comfort. At least then I don't feel like I treat my shoes like soldiers anymore.

But I have to confess, during this week staying at Seattle, I believe I have stumbled upon my secret soulmate. The lovely lass who cleans my room has a shoe compulsion that pulls on my heartstrings. When I return to my room in the evening, not only is the bed made, as I'd have expected. Also, my shoes are arranged in a row by the wall, in height order, just so. And all my toileteries have been reorganized on the shelf, side by side, in a perfect row, even in ascending height order. And my laptop has been shifted so that its corner aligns perfectly with the corner of the desk. And my notebook has been placed on my laptop, so that the corners align perfectly. And I'm sure if I had more of an eye for detail, I'd notice more such peccadillo(e?)s all over the room.

Out of habit, I kick one shoe awry, to create the look of deliberate messiness that is so the rage these days. So that I don't feel like I'm treating them like soldiers. But for the most part, I have to confess, her orderliness makes me feel dead good.