I probably don’t say this enough, actually I’m usually saying things like “my idiot brother made me do some idiot thing that almost got us arrested, killed, mangled, murdered, or poisoned” but not this time.
Let me back up.
Peter is the nosiest, OCD, cleaner of other peoples home ever. Anytime he goes to someone house he starts opening medicine cabinets and throwing things out. Even when we were young and he would drop me off at a friends house, he would come inside for a few minutes just to start opening drawers hoping to find hidden treasures. And not secretly. He isn’t one of those that goes in the bathroom and quietly opens the medicine cabinet to see if you have foot fungus or something. He does it right in front of your face, anything that has a door, drawer, knob and usually the phrase “so, what’s in here” comes along. If it has a lock that’s even better. Because then his ADD and OCD can combine into figuring out how to open that lock and getting to see what’s inside.
Usually, it’s embarrassing and annoying.
When I returned home from my sabbatical in Nashville, I walked in to a beautiful apartment. I even texted Hilarie “did a maid come?” The pillows were fluffed. The bathroom shower rust was scrubbed clean. My chatskis in the kitchen were placed exactly 8 inches apart from each other. My makeup area was neatly organized. My power outlet was attached to the wall instead of dangling from the fridge. The pictures on my fridge were straightened. Not that it was a total disaster, but there were some areas left from the previous tenant that I was too grossed out to investigate.
Like my bathroom sink. Not that it didn’t work before, but it was so full of god-knows-what that the minute you turn on the water the sink is already full. It makes washing your hands, brushing your teeth or doing anything a pain in the ass to have to keep turning off the water and wait 5 minutes for it to drain.
But no more. Before I even knew that he had cleaned it, I couldn’t figure out why the sink wasn’t doing that. I even let it run for a couple minutes just waiting for it to fill up. But it didn’t! OCD Pete, as I will now refer to him, had somehow fandangled something in there to get all those lost objects out. I never want to know what tool he used or what was in there or I may never sleep again.
So in this situation, OCD P wasn’t embarrassing and annoying, and is welcome to clean my apartment whenever he likes. I’ll just make sure to hide my collection of love letters to Ryan Gosling I haven’t gotten to nerve to send yet.
And there you have it Peter, since I will not be making a wonderful speech about what a great brother you are at the wedding, this is all you get. So, congrats on your marriage, so glad you two found each other, and I love you. Let’s all raise our imaginary glasses, cheers!