I Am Neurotic

And a little obsessive compulsive. And slightly germophobic. And I'm living in an apartment that's making me realize new levels of dirty.

I think I don't like this show because it's me, minus cool detective talents.

Because the person I share the apartment with (who is also the building manager) hardly ever uses anything beyond the door of his room, I have no idea how the kitchen got to be as gross as it is. Someone, somewhere along the line, made a sticky mess and no one cleaned it up. Until me.

Meeting this guy and seeing the room was really awkward (he's not much of a people person, from what I gather...) and I didn't scope out the kitchen much. And I left myself almost no time to really search for places, plus this apartment came so cheaply for such a great area that I figured I'd just deal with whatever weird issues. I already spent the better part of one day off cleaning, disinfecting and lining the shelves in the kitchen, fully grossing myself out, so I'm not exactly stoked to jump in there and do it again, even if it means finishing the job. Who knows who used the kitchen in the past, or what they did in it, or how long the stickiness has been festering. I certainly don't want to think about it, but when I go to pull out a drawer and my hand comes back with food particles on it I have to suppress my gag reflex.

What I'm trying hardest to understand is how my roommate can watch me clean the kitchen for 5+ hours and ask, "Is it that bad?" Well, yeah, it is, but you wouldn't know because you never use it. (Plus side is there's practically an entire kitchen for pretty much my use only... I just have to clean it first.) He did offer to try to help keep it clean, but I'm afraid we have very different ideas on what, exactly, "clean" is. I believe something must go through scrubbing to get all food particles off and then scrubbed again with soap and warm (preferably hot) water in order to be considered clean. I think his version of clean is rinsed and food particles mostly not on the eating surface. I even disinfected the trash can lid with wipes and the next day there were traces of something scraped off. I don't think it's that much to ask that a grown man clean up after himself, but I feel really weird asking him to, and even weirder that I actually have to. Shouldn't cleaning up after yourself be something you learn by your thirties?

I do realize I have an abnormally low tolerance for uncleanliness, but I don't think I'm being unreasonable. I want to bring up the subject but I feel like an intruder... I've not been home or cooked almost any night since I moved in and I can't always go to a friend's house or buy a sandwich somewhere. It would be nice to not have to wash my hands after touching something in the kitchen but I'm not about to eat with sticky fingers.

Something tells me I'll continue with my absurd amount of moving. Good thing I didn't sign a lease.

If Monk Had Eczema

I would feel very bad for poor Monk.

I have a mild case of obsessive compulsive disorder when it comes to cleanliness. I wash my hands extremely frequently and shower every day, sometimes twice. Unfortunately, I also have a mild case of eczema, and eczema doesn't like cleanliness. I shower every day and I'm told to shower and use soap as infrequently as I can stand (which is sometimes twice a day, since I work in 90-100 degree heat). I'm learning to pat dry or air dry and to put lots of lotion on immediately following my showers. I've also taken to cold showers, which feel pretty good after a day in Escondido.

I would also feel very bad for poor Monk if he was a she.

Women have to be extra careful with their hygiene, especially during their most womanly days. Periods are not very hygienic, and period products would make Monk mad. For a whole week out of the month, Monk would curse his body: Monk would not have the luxury of standing up at a urinal, but would have to sit on a toilet seat that thousands of strangers have sat on before him, some even going so far as to not use the paper seat protectors (baffles my mind why someone would not use one). He would also have to deal with using period products in the confining space of a public restroom stall while trying to remain on the paper seat protector and not getting messy. There are way more doors and handles and locks to maneuver in a woman's restroom.

I would feel most bad for poor Monk if he was a she and had eczema.

If Monk was a woman with eczema the show would be either hilarious or completely frustrating. If Monk had to deal with not only the trials of womanhood but also a skin disorder he would go berserk. Especially if both showed their ugly heads at the same time.

In other news, I'm glad I have mild cases of eczema, OCD and womanhood.