“I did it for me. I liked it. I was good at it. And... I was really... I was alive.”
- Walter White, Breaking Bad (Season 5)
I have a severe case of OCD. The utensils have to be placed in the drawers, one after the other. We have a maid who cleans them but i've got to put them in. I'm perfectly OK with her slacking on the cleanliness scale but i need to design the placement. The books have to be stacked neatly, even during an earthquake. The shoes have to be lined up nicely on the rack like civilization expects us to. The clothes have to be folded properly even if ironing ain't my thing. Basically, everything has to be in order. There shouldn't be strains of hair on the white floor nor an assembly of dust on the fan blades. Nobody notices a tidy room as much as they notice an untidy one. No surprises then that i get down to brass tacks every morning followed by a lengthier swings during weekend. I don't know about charity but orderliness begins at home. Thanks to my condition, my area of compulsion isn't limited to my apartment. I keep picking up litter be it on street or in office washroom. Although i try hard but i've failed to become the indifferent person that my personality otherwise exudes. My office drawer at mid-day was a sight to behold. My colleagues used to comment that even girls don't keep stuff so tidily! (I know it's a myth that girls are supposed to herald spick-and-span.) Now, at Zomato, we don't have desk culture. We only have a table at our disposal and you can see how immaculate my desk is. So much so it used to annoy Akshar when we sat next to each other. Coming back to our apartment, i can't help but clean up the mess my flat-mates leave behind on the main table or in the kitchen. They don't do it with the hindsight that i'll clean but me being me, i end up moving stuff around. The bean bags go back to their place. The cups and plates move to the sink. Washed clothes are demarcated. Windows closed on time. I don't even care about intrusion laws as i enter my flat-mates' room to switch off buttons to save electricity. And this can get tiring. It's a thankless task, no doubt, but it gets taxing after a while. I don't know anyone who's 29 and worried about such little things in life. I believe all of them are busy either living it up (and leaving mess behind for others to clean?) or conquering the world. But then, i've also realized that whatever you do, even if it's for others, you basically do it for yourself. Even if it gets exhausting at times. I spam some chosen ones on WhatsApp with quirky/funny images every morning. Although it takes seconds to send pictures across but it takes much longer to procure and curate them. But then, again, i don't do it for others. I do it for myself. I feel good when i learn something new or laugh at something newer so i decide to share it with others. Anyway, my style of spamming is faaaaaar better than the good-morning-good-night spammers'. Like i said, most of the activities we get ourselves into have a direct connection with what makes us happy. I don't know much about cooking but a clean kitchen allows me a sense of calm, if not achievement. They say cooking is therapeutic. I think my OCD does the same for us.