My mom caught me reading the Betty Crocker Cookbook when I was a little girl. That's how I know that the knife goes on the right side of the plate and faces inward, followed by the dinner spoon, and lastly, the soup spoon. I admit it, I have an obsession. I like things to be just right and have unintentionally become famous (or perhaps infamous) to those who know me for my -isms.
"She'll write a book series on children's etiquette," my friends proposed at our graduation dinner. Maybe they weren't so far off.
After recently moving into a new apartment with my best friend who accepts my curious obsession with the precise and a conversation with my mom of how I'm turning (or maybe turned) into her, I've become more judgmental of my particular-ness. Maybe worse, I've been worrying how others perceive my need for order.
After some contemplation, I noticed I can reconsider my quirky behaviors and capitalize on them. Fortunately, it seems as though my love for perfection has infused into one particular aspect of my life: style.
Feel free to laugh at or learn from some or all of my thoughts. Either way, I'm styled by etiquette.
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