But when I came home, she picked up my bedroom. Everything was lined up, stuff strews on the floor were put into bags, and even my charges were organized into plastic bags I didn't know I even had. This is what it's like when someone who has obsessive-compulsive disorder cleans your house. All of this took her an hour to organize, she said, but damn, my room looks so damn clean. I think I'm in love with her. And I almost regret leaving the door open when I pee so she can walk in on me with my dick out. Almost.
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