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I'm not a clean freak. My house is a mess.

I'm horrible to live with. I don't clean. My clothes end up wherever I take them off. I forget to flush the toilet.

I'm a freak of neat. The kitchen has to be clean.

I'm not a neat freak. I don't mind things being messy but I mind them being dirty. I just can't relax in a dirty environment. I like things organized.

I need to feel as if everything is clean and in its proper place before I can even attempt to write one word. At least, that's what I tell myself. I make the bed, I put away the dishes, maybe I dust, maybe I do the laundry, maybe I go to the post office.

Literally, my job is I make socks. That's all I do.

I have the same bedroom I've always had. It's clean and tidy when I get home, and after two or three days it gets messy and my mother nags me.