For the past few years, I’ve developed my own special midlife crisis OCD. I’m not entirely sure if it makes my life easier or just simply exhausting, but one thing’s certain—my family thinks I’ve lost it. It manifests in all sorts of ways, and while I can’t list them all, here are a few:
- The bed must be made immediately after waking up with no wrinkles
- Pillows and bed covers must be arranged to perfection. Reset if 2 cm off.
- Dining chairs need to be perfectly aligned. No excuses. No exceptions.
- Never again sleeping naked. Even in the middle of a heatwave, I need a top and bottom on. Why? I am cold or I might catch a cold.
- My evening green tea must be sipped from my favourite cup, brewed in my favourite pot. Anything else is not good enough.
- The alarm must be checked multiple times because trusting it once is clearly not an option.
- Clothes must be returned to the wardrobe before bedtime.
- My morning coffee requires exactly six drops of semi-skimmed milk. Not five. Not seven. Six.
- Bathroom mirrors must be spotless—always. Even if that means cleaning them three times a day.
I call it OCD, some call it domestic excellence. It does make life a bit intense but if everything’s in order, at least something in this chaotic world 40ty makes sense. My family think I’m crazy but at good for them, they live in a clean house, it could go the other way.
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