the fussy mode

since as long as i can remember, i can't function when everything is in disarray. i can't write. i can't read. i can't cook. not that i turn on the stove on a daily basis. the last time i did, i nearly set the kitchen on fire. i'm really, really careful now. i'm in such intense focus whenever it's deemed necessary to be caught in our tiny cooking enclave.

once a person get hitched, compromise is a key to less arguments. not everybody was born annoyingly obsessive-compulsive. mess is a part of life. with the long hours at work, my clean as you go hysteria has become less frequent. i've been subdued by our highly-cramped, tons of magazines living environment. i've just been to a friend's house and they have lesser books and other source of stay-at-home enjoyment. they're so content with their collection of datu puti vinegar and UFC banana ketchup (not getting paid for the product placements is fine by me). i should really do more tidying up rather than typing this slobber. but just like breathing, a few good words matter and the shredder and ironing board can definitely wait.