Freaks: A classification guide

I used my bank holiday time the only way a kooky, zany, spontaneous gal like myself knows how - finally getting around to cleaning. It's a job I always put off because I'm just not that bothered about how clean something is, but then it gets to the point where my wooden floors start to look like they have luxurious wall-to-wall gray carpeting thanks to the 3 feet of dust build up and I figure I should probably take some action to rectify it before my friends invite Kim and Aggie round. It's a little weird to me because nature has deemed me worthy of being a total tidy freak so I will lose it if the mugs aren't in the right bit of the cupboard but I'm totally cool if I can't see the tv very well due to it being hidden under a mask of dead skin cells.

To illustrate, this kind of thing (which may or may not belong to moi depending on how disgusting you think it is):


doesn't bother me too much, whereas this kind of thing:


does. (I don't know this random google image but I still feel compelled to say the following: QUIT CHATTING, MAKE YOUR BED AND PUT YOUR STUFF AWAY WOMAN. Good grief)

I guess organised chaos is key where I am concerned, to the casual observer my living space may be termed 'cluttered' but everything has it's place and everything is arranged for maximum aesthetic pleasingness. To my mind minimalism is exclusively for Patrick Bateman and the type of women who never get holes in their tights (a.k.a. 'the enemy'). I like visual stimulation; I like looking around and seeing bright colours, interesting pictures, different textures, and Garfield cookie jars. But, to reiterate, all these things have their place and when things are not wonky in the way they're meant to be wonky, or askew in manners God (i.e. 'me') never meant them to be askew then I must immediately set to work reinstating order and eliminating chaos.

It's funny because there is a definite difference with how I view the world and how a clean freak views the world. For example, gay husband is obsessed with this:

to the point that you sometimes have to have it ready and waiting on the table for when he returns from his ablutions (depending on the general scuminess of the place) and yet he thinks nothing of falling asleep in a pile of laundry like a kitten would. I find this concept abhorrent. I would not be able to sleep if there were a pile of unfolded and un-put away laundry anywhere within sight of me, let alone fall asleep IN it. No matter how tired or drunk I was, I would have to put it all in it's rightful places before allowing myself to rest my eyes and fall into a slumber.

I suppose we all have our little quirks and there are different shades of the same conditions.

For instance, this is crazy:

[Via Videogum]

And this is CRAZY:

[Via Micheal Ian Black]

Although I'm not sure I thought that metaphor through far enough as I wouldn't really want to align myself with the guy a little too in love with his business cards nor indeed Charles Manson. Though if I had to pick it would be Manson. I've always fancied being a cult leader with a facial tattoo. Plus the other guy seems like a massive tool.