I have so little driving me these days. So little fuel for anything domestic. I was once quite fastidious and liked everything in its place. I would become very distracted in the midst of a conversation if anything in my immediate surroundings was askew. I'd have to pounce up and straighten it immediately, a stack of books or papers usually. I needed my environment neat, neat, neat! A clean, bare counter for me was an airy little sanctuary for me to hover over. A clean, tidy place to me meant a clean tidy mind.
Where do we keep the can opener on Tuesdays?