I am a clean freak.

This may come as a surprise to anyone who actually knows me...but I am a clean freak.

Having a house to myself for the first time in my life (my husband doesn't count - he rightly defers to me in all domestic decisions) has lead me to discover a few things about how I prefer to live. Huge TV with full cable? Check. Comfortable couch? Check. Fridge always stocked with Diet Coke? Double Check.

But the thing that surprises me the most is finding that I prefer to have a clean house. I realize this is a given for most people, but as someone who has lost her keys, cell phone and wallet in her own room on more than one occasion - wanting a clean space is new for me.

But the clean I'm talking about is more along the lines of washed, not straightened. I like a general lack of dirt, grime, dust and trash in my house. Shoes and clothes all over the floor don't bother me in the slightest - but put a messy counter or a dusty table in front of me and my skin starts to crawl. I go through furniture spray and bathroom cleaner like they cure cancer. I think it comes from a place of wanting to keep what I have. I have a nice, clean house and am too aware of how quickly dirt and grime can creep in to the cracks and only present themselves when you have company over. I am fearful that I'll wake up one day surrounded by so much filth I won't be able to clean it all - pretty irrational, I know.

But that's where I'm at right now - a horizon (and house) full of new things and great possibilities...and I'm just worried I can't keep it from all turning to dust.

I am a clean-freak. I am a worrier. I am getting high on the fumes from my bleach based house cleaner.

Picture: My sweet, clean house.

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